


The Spirit of Christmas

by Millgirl



Series: Miranda's Sabbatical [6]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humor, Meet the Family, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millgirl/pseuds/Millgirl
Summary: Miranda has never enjoyed Christmas. In fact it has always been her least favorite time of year. But this year, she decides, things will be different!
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Series: Miranda's Sabbatical [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490903
Comments: 37
Kudos: 196





	1. Act differently and you will feel different.

**Author's Note:**

> As we come to the end of 2020, this story might have extra appeal, remembering a happier time when Christmas parties could be enjoyed by all. If anyone would like to read more Mill Girl beyond the pages of AO3, do connect up with me on my author's Facebook page, Maggie McIntyre Author. Happy Christmas to you and yours, and stay safe.

A week or so before Christmas, and Miranda was worried. She had no solution to the problem of what to give Andrea as a present, and it niggled at her brain constantly. She was thinking about it now, as she lay half-awake in the early morning, wrapped around the woman she adored in their shared king-sized bed.

What did one buy for someone one loved beyond all reason, but who never expressed any wants? She suspected Andrea would be as enthusiastic about a five dollar box of chocolates as a Tiffany necklace. But Miranda had more deep-seated reasons to be confused.

For Miranda, Christmas had always been bitter-sweet, with a definitely sour undertone. As the normally crazy streets of Manhattan became even more manic with all the light shows and extravagant commercialism of false jollity, not helped by multiple incarnations of weary faux-Santas ringing their bells, her heart grew colder and more frozen. It made her as forlorn as she ever felt. It was her least favorite time of the year.

But this Christmas in the year of her epiphany, when she had reconnected with her childhood, Miranda at last let herself remember and fully understand the obvious. It had been just a few days before Christmas when she had lost her mother in the most horrible way possible for a small girl. 

As a child of four she had seen her Mum die, crushed under a taxi on London’s Oxford Street under the glare of all the Christmas lights, bright even in 1959. From then on life was truly hellish, and no one had ever kissed her again throughout her childhood. Losing her only parent had marked the decline in her ability to experience any pleasure in Christmas, which had lasted really for the rest of her life. Even after the twins had arrived, she had endured rather than embraced the season. 

“Christmas is for children,” ran the old platitude, so Miranda had gritted her teeth and put up with the charade of jolly holly whatevers for their sake. But she took no joy in it, just grew another layer of scar tissue over her buried misery.

But now she understood, and having understood, was determined to do something about it. She wanted to recapture a sense of innocent pleasure, to no longer have to play an elaborate charade just to keep her twins from realising just how much Christmas upset her.

She wanted to give and receive. She wanted to be happy. And she wanted peace, not only on earth, but also within her heart. As Christmas approached this year, her yearning grew, but so far she had not found any clue how to make it happen, and it troubled her. She was also determined not to dump her problems on Andrea, her blithe, darling lover whose default position always seemed to be merry.

Andy, cuddled up next to her in bed that same morning, had no such inner battles. She adored Christmas, every trivial piece of nonsense which had been foisted on top of the birth of Baby Jesus, and the story of his being born in a stable in Bethlehem, more or less two thousand years before. 

It was a time of year when Andy’s rational agnosticism flew straight out of the window. She loved angels, guiding stars, wise men on camels and oxen and asses standing by. 

She also fully enjoyed the Santa Claus industrial scale myths of reindeer and flying sleighs, ridiculously corny Christmas themed films, Macy’s Parade, the filling of stockings with silly little gifts, and the writing of Christmas cards. Watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ never failed to make her cry.

It was all a manifestation of love, and this year, despite having a much shorter Christmas card list, as her oldest friends seemed to have unkindly dumped her, she was in love, and in love with love. Nothing could lower her spirits. 

Her only concern was not to be an embarrassment to Miranda about all of this. She was well aware that Miranda, for all that she could be a consummate showgirl when she wanted to, had a real hatred of sentimental mawkishness. 

Andrea knew this, and thought, “She’s never seen the real me at Christmas. She’ll be appalled! I bet she won’t even let me wear a Christmas jumper with a Reindeer face on it. I had better grow up and tone down my worst Christmassy excesses for her sake.”

She had secretly bought, wrapped and hidden a present for Miranda, which she hoped she would be surprised and very happy with, and was planning a major shopping trip that very morning to complete the rest of her present buying for the family back home. She was organizing horse-riding lessons for Cassidy, and had bought a good quality water-colour set of paints, brushes and multiple sheets of the best art paper for Caroline. Everything was set.

Andy’s sister Hannah, nearest to her in age and currently working in Japan, was flying home for Christmas via New York. This meant she was coming to stay with the Priestly family for a day or two before flying on to Ohio, and so could take all Andy’s presents home with her. 

She loved Hannah dearly, they were only eleven months apart, and felt almost like twins. But Hannah was completely different in most respects from her. She could almost have been related more to Miranda than to Andy. Excellent at languages and design, hopeless at sports, she was completely adverse to the great outdoors. As girls they had never quarrelled over Patches the pony, as Hannah had absolutely no desire to ride. 

She had studied oriental languages, found an internship in Tokyo for her third year in her Bachelor’s degree, and returned there for Graduate studies. She’d been snapped up by a Japanese based Tech company and was completely happy there. So it was more than two years since Andy had seen Hannah, and longed to introduce her to Miranda and the girls.

Miranda had been reading a book on behaviourism. If you wanted to change, it claimed, then you should change your actions, do things differently, and then your feelings were most likely to change with you. So instead of boring Andy with telling her how much she wanted to enjoy Christmas and Christmassy things, Miranda decided to take up the challenge and turn herself in to the very Spirit of Christmas. 

Andrea was kissing her very gently behind her ear, which made her face automatically smile as she wriggled away from the tickling. This was as good a time as any. Andrea’s wicked tongue needed stopping before the torture became worse.

“We should have a Christmas party,” she said firmly, as if it was a done deal.

It did the trick. Andy stopped molesting her ear, and said in astonishment, “But you hate parties. And it’s too late, surely. There’s only a week or so to go.”

“We can have one while Hannah’s here, introduce her to your friends from Runway. We can have it the night after the twins’ Christmas concert. Geoff and Cindy might even come as well. You’ve had hardly any social life since the injury to your head. I definitely think we should have a party!”

Andy enjoyed a party as much as the next girl, but she knew Miranda’s real preference was for a quiet evening in, a sofa and an Andrea to smooch with over a glass of good claret or some malt whiskey. 

“And you’d hold it where? Here? Have everyone invading your lovely town house with the new decorations?”

“Yes, of course. Why not? I’m not such a dragon that people aren’t welcome in my home. We could put up a big tree in the hall. The girls will love it. Come on, let’s get up and sort out a guest list. Then I’ll find a good caterer, while you email everyone.”

Andrea was almost as surprised as if Miranda had suggested they hire a Santa to come and hand out presents to everyone. 

“Sure thing, boss. Just one thing . . . “

“Hmm? “

“Just checking, but you will be coming to this party yourself I hope? You don’t intend to flit in and out just for twenty minutes like you used to do at Runway functions?”

“Of course not, silly. Remember the good-bye party you and Emily threw for me at Runway. I stayed there until the last balloon popped. I’m changing. I really am changing. I think I like parties, and I am going to like Christmas parties the best of all.”

Miranda was now standing, her satin pyjamas falling open to reveal the delicious curve of her breast, and her body screamed at Andrea, “Pull me back into bed and make love to me until noon.” But her face had its determined woman of action expression on it, and she virtually skipped off to the shower.

“Make us both a coffee, darling, there’s a love, and then we can make a start.”

Andrea simply stared after her. Miranda certainly had one thing she continued to admire and adore, a never-failing ability to astonish her.


	2. Butter wouldn't melt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda begins some serious party planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, As this is part of a series, if this is the first time you have wandered into my alternative universe, reading the previous two or three stories will help unravel any problems you might have understanding what is going on! Many thanks to all you lovely people who leave kudos and especially comments. It is such fun to feel part of this community. The story will have several chapters, as things get even more complicated, and we will finish in time for Christmas!

“A party? A Christmas party? Oh wow, Mom, Can we invite our friends from school?” The twins were eating their breakfast in the kitchen, and immediately picked up on the follow-on conversation between their two Moms, continued from the bedroom half an hour before.

Miranda did a quick mental readjustment. She had already settled in her mind on an adults only cocktail party, with some canapes of a sophisticated nature, like little caviar toasts and small shrimp whatnots. 

The twins’ excited little pink faces however rather disarmed her. She certainly owed quite a few of their school friends’ parents some reciprocal play-dates, and it never did any harm to layer in general good-will in the neighbourhood. After all, it was Christmas.

She knew her reputation round the Dalton Middle School parents’ circuit was as a noticeably absent mother with a snooty air and a superiority complex. She had contributed generously to all and sundry school fundraising appeals which had been sent home, but it wasn’t quite the same. 

The main problem was that she was rarely seen in person, never stamping her feet against the cold at the school gates, or volunteering to run after-school clubs. When one worked twelve hour days as a norm, such things just weren’t possible. 

Miranda knew that no pupils’ fathers would be expected to bake cookies, hear children read, or give soccer coaching at the very expensive private school. It made her rather resentful that she was judged harshly on such trivia, when she was a single mother with a scorchingly demanding profession.

Nevertheless some of the less observant Dalton mothers had even assumed Cara was the twins’ parent, and definitely related to Andy much better through chats at the school gates, than they did to Miranda.   
Here was a chance to put that right. She was on sabbatical. She was going to do things differently. She could expand the party, or at least run two parties, an upstairs one and a downstairs one, in parallel. 

“All right, you can each invite four friends, and we can turn the top floor of the house into a themed party area for you and the other children. I’ll hire a professional entertainer who can also chaperone you all. I’m sure the company Andy arranged to organise your birthday party can send someone along.”

“Great, Mom! How about getting the baby elephant again from the zoo?”

Miranda and Andy both broke into laughter. Miranda’s mirth though was slightly tinged with hysteria. She had once worked with elephants.

“No, not a good idea. Don’t you remember the party in June was outside, in the Park? The baby elephant won’t be such a baby now, and I am not having any elephant, even a new-born infant, walking up my stairs and pooping all over the new carpets.”

Even the twins understood and backed off, but Cassidy decided to be wicked and tried her luck. “How about a monkey then?”

“No! Eat your porridge and then fetch your winter boots. Andy is going to walk you to school today and Cara will collect you later.”

“Am I?” Andrea raised her eyebrows.

“Yes please. As you always say, it is good for them to have a morning walk. Just please, please my darling, do not come back through Central Park. I still shudder when I think of what happened to you in there.” 

“I thought I was supposed to start emailing all our potential guests.”

“While you are out I will start making the list, and we can frame the invitation together. The girls can take theirs to school with them tomorrow.”

“Oh very well. It’s a nice bright, frosty morning for a walk. It’s just a shame we don’t have a dog I can take. I do miss Patricia.”

Within fifteen minutes, Andy and the twins had left the house, and Miranda sat in peace at the kitchen table. She’d had an ulterior motive for pushing Andy out of the door, because she needed to catch Nigel before he started the daily bustle at Runway, and she wanted to talk to him in private.

She rang his cell phone and he picked up immediately. She could tell he was in the town-car as the noise of the New York traffic was creating its own cacophony in the background. 

“Hi Miranda, how’s it going?”

“Oh fine. I heard good reports of the European fashion weeks. Well done. I gather congratulations are in order.”

Nigel’s silent response told her he was surprised to be complimented.

“How did you know?”

“Oh little birds and all that. Actually Andy heard it from Emily. You’ve done very well to secure the exclusive on the brightest new designer in Paris. I’m very pleased for you.”

“Well . . . thanks. I was slightly afraid you’d be less . . .”

“You thought I’d be jealous? Oh for heaven’s sake, Nigel! Of course not. Now I need you to do me a favor.”

“Your wish is my command, always, if I can.”

“Andy and I are throwing a Christmas party, here at home, on the 22nd. Will you come?"

“Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away. The Bushes had asked me round, but I’ll put them off.”

“Excellent, well that’s one guest sorted. Now, do you remember those friends of Andrea’s who came to Runway once? There was a young man, and a girl who ran a gallery.”

“Yes, wasn’t he a good-looking if rather over-weight young fellow who worked in a bank? He was called something like a tree. ‘Um, a Douglas Fir, that was it. A young man called Douglas. I don’t remember the other friend, but of course Six could tell you both their names.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to ask her. I am trying to effect a reconciliation here, and I want it to be a surprise. Can you dig around, put Emily on the case if you have to, and find me a way of contacting them? Andy was so upset when they dropped her as Facebook friends or whatever that means and haven’t returned her messages. If you can help me, maybe I can work a little miracle here, and bring them back to her. She misses them keenly. I’d like them to come to the party.”

“Leave it with me, Miranda. If I don’t succeed, it won’t be for lack of trying.”

“Good, just as long as Andrea doesn’t get to know. Anyway, we’ll be emailing you officially, and some of the Runway set later today. It will be good to see you all again.”

Nigel was both touched and cheered by the positivity in her voice. A few months off seemed already to have done Miranda a world of good. He meanwhile was losing what little hair he had, taking her place, but it was a small sacrifice to pay for all the fun he was having as Editor in Chief and to know she was turning into a human being from the robotic dragon of a year before.

“We’ll all see you soon then. I’m dying to see your new décor, darling!”

“Yes, well. It’s nothing special, but the house feels refreshed. Bye for now then.”

“Yes, Bye, Ciao!”

Miranda closed her phone and re-heated the coffee. In a few minutes it seemed, Andy burst through the door, pink-cheeked from her thirty minute round trip walk in the chilly weather, and with her cropped hair curling round her face like an exuberant pixie. She found her fiancée sitting in front of her laptop, her reading glasses at the end of her nose, looking lost in serious list making. 

Andy thought. “Hmm, butter wouldn’t melt, eh? I wonder what Miranda has been up to.” She had lived with Miranda for five months now, and had worked for her for twice that time. 

Of course she could read her like a book. Something was up, and she was determined eventually to find out what it might be. But for now, it was fun to see Miranda so engaged.

She tossed a bag of fresh sweet rolls down on the table. “I picked these up at the bakery on the way home. I thought you might be tempted. We need a treat if we are to plan our Christmas party this morning, and isn’t Sophia coming later for an Italian session?”

“Oh yes, I nearly forgot. Andrea, what do you think? I wonder if I can include her in the guest list. She’s been so good fitting me in round all her other work and classes, and I think she might bring her husband along. It could encourage them to have an invitation together somewhere different.”

“Are you sure Sophia has told him about us? This party could be a very gay affair.”

“Oh, if he feels awkward he can always talk to Roy. I was going to include him and his wife as well. After all I’ve known them both for more than ten years.”

“So this is going to be, what shall we say, a rather eclectic party?”

“This is America, the great melting pot. I’ve wasted far too many years of my life at functions where I had to listen to millionaires boring me to tears, and I’d be completely hypocritical if I didn’t acknowledge my own less than humble background.”

“Fine by me. But can I see your list so far? How shall we frame the invite?”

“How about “Andy and Miranda at Home”. 

“Wow, sweet. Not Miranda and Andrea then?”

“I’ve thrown in the towel on that. You will always be my Andrea, but to the world I know you are Andy, silly name though it is.”

“Hey, don’t abuse my Momma. She was the one who coined it to begin with. She was always rather gender neutral!”

“Whatever you’re called, I love you.”

“I love you too, and I love it that you let me be ‘at home’ here.”

“I would live in a trailer park if it meant I lived with you.”

“No let’s stay here for now. Can you imagine the fun though, if we did ask that baby elephant back as a surprise for the children?”

“No.”

“Oh, all right. Just asking. Here, have a sweet roll. I bags the vanilla one though. You can have the cinnamon twist.”

Andy perched on Miranda’s knee and began to feed the pastry into her lover’s delightful mouth, interspersed with a kiss or two. Then she asked, “What about Cassidy’s idea of a monkey, just a small one?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I say so, and anyway, Pumpkin would be affronted.”

“Oh yes, I guess you’re right. But I worry about him being an only kitten. Maybe we should think about a companion for him.”

“Concentrate! Read through the list, and then we need to contact everyone. We need to work fast.”

So they did. Far more people than they pessimistically expected replied positively, including Hannah, who throw another bombshell at them by asking if she could being her new fiancé with her, someone called Harry she had met in Tokyo and who had just proposed to her that very hour. 

“Wow! It’s all happening in the Sachs family this year,” said Andy, realising the Hannah’s time zone was late evening, and her email sounded decidedly inebriated. “If we have a Japanese guy coming, should we include Sushi on our menu of snacks? What do you think?”

Miranda didn’t demur, and Pumpkin, sitting on her lap, looked positively excited. He liked the idea of shrimps and raw fish, and was perfectly content to be the token animal at whatever party they were planning. He rolled over and stretched, inviting Miranda to tickle his tummy, which she did, absentmindedly. 

The Christmas party planning was now under way. She now turned her attention to a tree and festive decorations, but she still couldn’t resolve the problem of what to give Andy as a Christmas present. It remained a question hanging in the air above her head, and time was running out.


	3. Plus Ones, and Twos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily is very sad, but still proactive. Andy and Miranda find their guest list keeps increasing under them.

While Andy and Miranda were emailing their friends and acquaintances, in the Runway offices Nigel and Emily were tackling the problem of following up on Andrea’s old friends. Emily at least immediately knew how to get their full names. 

“If you remember, they visited Runway back in the early spring, so their names must be recorded in the Elias- Clarke visitors’ books. Those are kept for two years. I’m sure if we then search for them on any major social media site we can track them down, as long as they are still based in New York.”

“Good thinking, Charlton. Are you going to send one of your minions downstairs to look? “

Emily’s promotion to Art Director meant that she now had her own ring of acolytes and assistants to do the menial tasks, but she shook her head.

“No, I’ll go myself. They won’t know what they are looking for. I can pin down the time-frame and recognise the names when I see them. Though why Miranda wants to be bothered with such miserable wastes of space, I can’t imagine.

“Andy is a total klutz as we all know, but she is someone I feel honoured to call a friend. All that time she had no memory and a great gash on her head, they must have known. Why didn’t they come round then?”

“Exactly, and that’s why Miranda wants to make it right for her. She told me Six has been upset over losing her old friends as well, ever since the break-up with Nate.”

Emily wrinkled her forehead and pushed her hair back as she pondered. 

“Nigel, I don’t think Miranda may be the right person to lobby for them to make friends again. She isn’t the most subtle of people is she? If I get their contact details, maybe you could tackle the Douglas fellow, and I’ll chase up the other one, the girl who runs the art gallery.”

“OK, that could work. I’m assuming you and Serena can make their party by the way. It wouldn’t be a party without you there.”

Nigel was astonished by Emily’s answer, delivered in a very tight voice. “I expect Serena has been sent her own invitation. We’re kind of, well, you might as well know. We aren’t together anymore. It’s just happened, and if you ask any more questions I shall burst into tears. I feel totally wretched about it.”

Nigel completely ignored her warning, just pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. 

“What made this occur? You’ve been so happy.”

Emily took the hanky and started to twist it round her hand. 

“I know, but I’m such a total wimp. I told my father only half the story about Serena, not even that we were living together, and he completely exploded. In fact my dear old Dad is coming over to New York to decontaminate me. Yesterday he called me and left a message to say he is staying with me for the whole Christmas holiday! 

“Serena kicked off about that big time. Of course she is fully justified, as it will ruin our plans to go down to Florida together. But she said I was a coward and spineless and a hypocrite for not telling Dad sooner when I could have dealt with the inevitable fallout at a more convenient time. 

“Anyway we had a blazing row last night, and she threw me out of her place, back to my own apartment. We’re not even speaking right now.”

Nigel got all Editor-in-Chief-ish at this unwelcome news. 

“Hey, I can’t have my senior team not working off the same hymn-sheet. You have to make it up with Serena as soon as possible.”

“Please don’t mention hymn-sheets. My father has been exposed as the most homophobic old retired vicar in, in, the whole of southern England! But since my mother died, he’s all the family I’ve got. He’s already bought the ticket to come. I don’t know what to do. I may even have to bring him to Miranda’s party! ”

Emily was very red in the face, and Nigel now saw how she must have been crying for most of the night. He softened his expression and gave her a campy hug. 

“Don’t fret, sweetie. It will all work out. In the meantime, let’s try to make it work for Andy, OK?” 

Emily looked at him through tear drenched eyes. Her black mascara had run and she looked very like Kung-Fu Panda.

“O.K.”

Back at the town-house, Miranda was struggling to find a Christmas decoration firm at such late notice, but kept dialling her way through the yellow pages until she struck lucky. The final tree company on the page had had a cancellation.

A seven foot tree, completely with lights and gold and silver balls would be erected by the coming weekend, and the team delivering it would also dress it, and add other festive flounces and swags in whichever rooms Miranda chose. They were obviously used to serving rich New Yorkers, too busy or idle to put up their own trees and Christmas decorations. 

Andy initially had even worse trouble organising the twins’ entertainment. Every clown, conjuror and musician seemed to be already booked up. But then she found a quirky website with a rather enigmatic looking large African American woman who claimed she told stories for a living, and specialised in the eight to twelve year old age range. 

She specialised in dramatic re-telling of classic fairy stories, and dressed up as the various characters. Andy called her, and tried to suss out how sophisticated she would be. “They are bright little buttons, and their friends are equally precocious. How would you approach it?”

The woman, who had taken the emollient name of “Mrs Treacle”, claimed this sort of party was right up her street. She was a qualified elementary school teacher, and had been police checked etc. She could supply references from other satisfied customers etc. etc. Andy said she would get back to her right away, and went to consult Miranda.

“What do you think?”

“Well, it’s different anyway and sounds non-disruptive at least. No live animals are included in her performance I hope? She’s not likely to bring a wolf in, to tell the story of Little Red-Riding Hood?”

“No, I’m sure of that. She sounds very motherly and quite confident.”

“Well go ahead and hire her then. We can always have a few DVDs on hand if she’s dire.”

“What about food for upstairs?”

“The kids will all eat pizzas. Why don’t we just order a few boxes to be delivered on the night?” 

“Good thinking Cuthbert. Hey, you could ask Sophia if her husband’s business can supply them. A bit of extra trade won’t do him any harm, and they could bring them with them. It might make him come, too, if he’s reluctant.”

“That’s a good idea. You have so many, darling.”

“Anyway, replies are coming in thick and fast now. Sally my police buddy has replied, and asks if she can not only bring her girl-friend, but also her girl-friend’s mother, who is apparently always complaining they leave her out of their social circle.”

“Yes, I suppose so, of course.” 

Miranda was already beginning to lose count, but the house was large, and she could cater for fifty or more if necessary. That was something else she had to do, book the caterers, with a small team of waiters and waitresses to serve drinks and pass round platters of canapes. It was all rather exacting work, but once it was set up, then they could just relax. 

Then the phone rang. It was Geoff, her ex Number one, and the twins’ father. 

“Hey girl,” it was what he had usually called her from the first time they had dated, and she was pleased to hear his voice. 

“Just received your email. Am I allowed downstairs with the grown-ups, or do I have to stay upstairs with the naughty children in the attic?”

“That depends entirely where you think you belong,” Miranda replied archly. “But I did hope, if you come, you might bring Cindy, so we can all meet her, and she can get a better understanding of the twins. How is she, by the way, and when are you getting married?”

Geoff sighed. “I did propose, and do you know, the silly girl turned me down!”

Miranda could hear the shock in his voice, and the obvious hurt surprise. It would do him some good, and she warmed to the sound of Cindy for the first time.

“Why?” she asked.

“She says she doesn’t want to be a widow at thirty, or married to an alcoholic. She wants me to quit the booze before she reconsiders.”

“Good for her. But are you living together?”

“Yes, for now. But she is in a separate room. She says she can’t sleep for my snoring, and if I quit drinking that would improve, and she might let me back in.”

“Well do bring her to the party. I know you have told the twins she’s pregnant, but seeing her at four months, might bring it home to them, help them process the reality of what they call these days ‘blended family life’.”

“Dreadful term, isn’t it? But yes, OK, count us in. I do envy you your Andrea though. She is so different, so undemanding.”

“Hands off my girl, Geoff! She’s taken. But between you and me, on occasion, Andrea can be very, very demanding indeed. That’s one of the reasons I adore her!”

They shared a laugh, and Geoff hung up. Miranda was glad his girl-friend was laying down some ground rules about his health. She’d been worrying about it for years. 

Emily in her usual efficient way, had washed away her tears, reapplied her make-up and had located Lily’s name and address, and the phone number for the gallery she managed. She had also found Nigel the phone number and address for Douglas, and they planned to both chase them up that evening, before they were forewarned. It certainly wasn’t right the way they had black-balled Andy, and also hard to understand. 

Emily felt very fierce on behalf of her friend, but tried not to spill her angst over Serena into the search for Lily. She just left the office an hour before her normal time, and before Serena could ambush her with more recriminations in the corridor and took a cab across the city to the Art Gallery. They had avoided each other all day.

She followed her father in that she always liked a mission, and this was a wholly positive one. She wondered just what Lily’s excuse would be. Well, now was the time to find out! She paid off the taxi, and crossed the street to where the gallery was still brightly lit, and obviously open for viewers and customers. 

Her high heeled boots clicked across the sidewalk and she felt like a cowboy about to barge through the saloon door and confront the baddie. Her assumption that she could be more conciliatory than Miranda had been forgotten. Lily wouldn’t know what had hit her.


	4. Mission Impossible, or maybe not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily and Nigel have most of the lines in this episode. It's good to have them back in the action.

The Gallery was almost empty of people, apart from a couple who were looking through a rack of art prints half way along. Emily could see Lily at the far end, gazing into her I Pad, and immediately recognised her as the girl who had toured round Runway back in March. 

Andy had invited her in to see her place of work, to give her an idea of what they did all day in the high-rise offices. She’d been less than impressed, Emily recalled, apart from with the generous collection of samples and other goodies she had taken away with her. 

Emily marched forward and positioned herself squarely in front of her. Lily looked up from her screen.

“Yes?”

“I’m here to find out what made you treat Andy Sachs so appallingly. Why have you thrown her off like a pair of old shoes? I thought you were supposed to be her best friend.”

Lily’s eyes widened in shock. She gulped and tried to get her mouth in line with her brain. This scary woman, who she did have a flash of remembrance about, had gone straight through her consciousness into all the maelstrom of guilt, anger, regret, pain whirling around in her heart. It was like her guilty conscience had turned into a person and was confronting her head on.

She parried the rapier, and tried to deflect it.

“Uh, and that is your business, why?”

Emily had had an emotional day, and her normal frosty bossiness had turned a corner into ardent truthfulness. 

“Because she’s a thoroughly decent kid, whom I love and care about. She’s been through hell this fall. Fat lot you’ve cared though. And for whatever reason she wants to make up with you.”

“So she’s sent you?”

“No, and she mustn’t know I’ve been. But she’s throwing a Christmas Party on the 22nd, and Miranda hopes you could come and be reconciled.”

“Miranda? That monster!”

“Yes, the monster who has loved Andy from the moment they met, who had nursed her through the most appalling head injury which gave her two months of amnesia and a cracked skull, and who she is going to marry. You must have heard, surely, about the way Andrea was mugged in Central Park back in early September? She really needed all her friends after that, when she’d lost her memory, but you were only noticeable by your absence. ”

The couple of customers came forward with their chosen print, and Lily served them and rolled it up for them in fancy paper. The few minutes this took gave her a chance to gather her wits and decide how to respond to Emily. She knew she couldn’t wriggle out of the inevitable confession. 

When they were alone once more, she said, “No, I didn’t know anything about that. I’m sorry to hear about it. I did try calling once, but the phone said ‘number unobtainable’.”

“Yes, her phone was stolen when she was mugged. The number was discontinued. But Email has been invented, you know. This is 2004.”

“Yes, but Andy’s work email seemed to be the only one she ever used, and that had been terminated as well.”

Emily rolled her eyes.

“This won’t wash. I found you within ten minutes of looking. Why did you really dump Andy and even de-friend her on Facebook?”

Lily had one of those moments when you need to confess. “She almost felt prompted to say, “Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

“I, I . . . well if you must know, it was because I had a bit of a fling with Nate myself, and I couldn’t face her.”

“What, after they broke up and he took off for Boston?”

Lily actually wriggled on her stool. “Well, no, not quite. It happened before, in May and June. She was never there, you see, and he looked so lonely with those puppy-dog eyes. It was obvious she didn’t really care, and I had always . . . rather. . .fancied him.”

Lily’s voice tailed off and she looked down at her hands.

“Oh. And now? Are you still with him?”

“Oh no! It didn’t last long. I realised Nate just enjoyed sex, he didn’t much mind who with. He wasn’t serious about me. I also think he went with me to pay Andy back for neglecting him. He treated it as a bit of a joke. When he moved to Boston he picked up with a co-worker up there. We haven’t been in touch for months.”

“Charming, and so what about her other best chum, Douglas? Does he know all about this? Why has he dumped Andy as well?”

“Douglas has his own issues, but maybe I did tell him a couple of fibs about Andy, to stop him blurting out the truth to her. I may have slightly misrepresented what she said about him to us. You have to understand, it wasn’t the best time for any of us, the breaking up of our little gang.

“But you’re right. I still love Andy, and I do owe her a big apology. I can’t believe she lost her memory. Maybe that’s why she stopped leaving me messages. I thought we were history.”

“Lost her memory, lost all her hair, and lost her childhood friend. Yes, it’s amazing she’s still ridiculously happy, which she is. And Miranda isn’t a monster by the way, she is a goddess, and she totally adores Andy. It’s only because of her that I’m here now.”

“So you really think I’d be welcome at this party?”

“Yes, they both want you there. I’ve come to see you, and Nigel my boss has gone to investigate Douglas.”

“Can I have the address please then, and what’s the dress code? Fancy pants high end?”

“I think the phrase on the invitation was “Festive.” Here, let me write down the address for you. And make sure you come!”

“You won’t tell Andy what I’ve told you, will you?” Lily suddenly felt scared.

“No, but I think you should confess everything to her at some point soon. She still has vestiges of guilt about scum-bag Nate, which isn’t fair. If you don’t tell her the truth, then you had better come up with a damn good excuse about your noticeable absence over the last six months.”

“Hmm, yes. You are right. Thanks for coming . . .?”

“Emily.”

“Right. Emily. I’ll be there. Should I bring a bottle?”

“No. I think Miranda can afford her own champagne.”

Lily walked Emily to the door and turned the Open/Closed sign round as she saw her out. 

Emily walked away into the dark streets. She had achieved her mission for Miranda, and felt better. Then as she sought a taxi, she remembered she was going back, not to Serena, but to her own tiny studio, and the tears began to roll down her cheeks yet again.

“Oh sod it!” she thought, and pulled Nigel’s exceedingly damp handkerchief out of her pocket yet again. It was going to be another horrible lonely night.

Nigel of course, had done things a little differently. Rather than turn up at Douglas’s apartment unannounced he had called his number earlier in the day, and in his most emollient voice and had left a message, as the Editor of Runway. 

“I remember with pleasure your visit to us earlier in the year, and have a proposition I think you might find to your advantage. Perhaps we could meet for a drink very soon? Call me.” And he then left his phone on alert. 

Douglas returned the call promptly. He remembered the then Art Director very clearly, his decidedly camp wit, and the way he had gazed into Douglas’s eyes and made him blush that day they had visited Runway. 

Douglas was depressed at being alone and pretty well chained to his work station in this so called festive season. Nigel’s call was the best thing to happen to him since Lily had told him about Andy’s betrayal, and he began to cheer up. 

They met in an uptown bar at 9pm and recognised each other at once.

“Nigel Kipling! Hello Douglas. I’m happy to see you again.” Douglas felt shy suddenly as the other man came forward and shook his hand, rather than thump him on the shoulder as American fellows usually tended to do. 

Nigel ordered a Manhattan, and Douglas a vodka martini. Neither were beer drinkers it seemed.

“’Evening. I’m pleased to see you as well. Do I understand you’re the Editor in Chief now at Runway?”

“Only for a year, while Miranda is on Sabbatical, but it is certainly broadening my horizons. Doors seem to be opening everywhere.”

“Great. So . . .?” Douglas wondered what the proposition might be.

“Ah, I may have brought you here under a slightly misleading invitation. This meeting is more on a personal rather than a professional matter.”

Douglas’s heart jumped a little in his chest. Was this man coming on to him? The idea both thrilled and terrified him simultaneously. 

“It concerns our mutual friend Andy Sachs.”

Douglas’s face fell and it hardened slightly. He turned away like a puppy frightened of being whipped.

“I understand you don’t see each other anymore. Is that right? Because Andy doesn’t understand why, and she misses your company. You know these last few months haven’t been altogether easy for her?”

“They haven’t been easy for me either. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss Andy.”

“Why not? What has she ever done to you?”

Nigel passed Douglas his drink across the bar from the barman, and picked up his own glass, swirling the contents with a swizzle stick. Then he sipped it slowly and looked intently into Douglas’s eyes.

“Er. Well it’s very painful. Andy broke up our group and,”

“How do you mean? ‘Broke up your group’?” 

Nigel had already received a call from Emily who had briefed him on Lily’s role in the matter, and mentioned she might have told lies about Andy, so he was well primed.

“She dumped Nate and . . . “

“Not quite accurate. As I understand it, Nate slept with her best friend, and they broke up through mutual agreement, wasn’t that right?”

“Oh? No I didn’t hear it like that. Anyway, I was involved with someone, a guy, who I really liked, but it all got very messy. When Andrea heard about it, she told our friend Lily that I was just a total faggot who would never get laid by anyone. She completely trashed my feelings and made me feel even worse than I had before. I never knew she was like that. Then she apparently has been dating her woman boss! She was really two-faced.”

“Oh Douglas, Andy is the most honest, open hearted person in the world. She would never say anything to hurt you. I’m afraid you’ve been wandering in the wrong forest here, let alone barking up the wrong tree! Did she ever say anything like that to your face?”

“No, but Lily said . . .”

“Ah, young Lily! Has it occurred to you that Lily has been deliberately trying to keep you apart, because she was having an affair with the chef, and didn’t want Andy to find out?”

“No!”

“Yes. In fact she confessed it to my colleague Emily Charlton only this evening. Andy is not only a sweetheart, she is also gay herself. So she would never call anyone a faggot or taunt them for coming out.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Why did I believe all that nonsense? I was in just such an emotional mess, and Andy wasn’t around any longer to look after me. I suppose I wanted to believe she’d deserted me, not the other way round.”

“You’ve been an idiot.”

“Yes, I have. How can I make it up to her?”

“Well for a start, come to her party on the 22nd. She and Miranda are hosting a Christmas shindig, and Miranda wants you to come. She named you to me personally.”

“She did? Wow!”

Douglas’s very fragile ego blossomed a little at that news. The legendary Miranda Priestly had actually remembered his name, had asked for him!

Nigel carried on, pressing his case and bringing Douglas up to speed on Andy’s mugging, head injury, amnesia and all the other things which had weighed her down.

“I must contact her now! I’ll go round to see her tomorrow!”

“No, Miranda wants to surprise her when you come to the party. Just keep it to that, please.”

“Right, so can you give me the address?”

Nigel did so. 

“And dress-code?”

“The invitation says ’Festive’.

“I will feel dreadful. Will you be there to smooth over my shame?”

“I will dear boy, I will, don’t worry.”

“Should I bring a bottle?”

“No, I think Miranda can afford her own champagne.”

Nigel texted Miranda with the gist of what he and Emily had achieved, a message she received just as she was preparing for bed. Reading his words pleased her very much, but she deleted it immediately to hide it from her inquisitive lover, currently luxuriating in the bath tub, and crooning “How much is that doggy in the window?”

In the course of one day, between them they had hacked all the party arrangements. Food and drinks were sorted, and a neat little team of student servers had been hired. The guest list was the only unknowable factor, as it seemed to be growing under its own steam. There was only one partial refusal so far, Sophia had looked very worried about including her husband in the invitation.

“I can more easily come on my own,” she’d said. “I can bring as many pizzas as you like for the kids. Surely you don’t want Spiv.”

“I certainly do,” Miranda had laughed. “With a name like that, he’ll be doubly welcome. It sounds like something out of “Grease”!

Sophia had laughed with her, but realised she now only had a few days to spill the beans to her husband about her frequent trips to Miranda’s house, well more the genders of all the people who lived in it. 

He’d originally been jealous of her, and suspected of her fancying her student’s husband, she dolled up so much before she went off to take a lesson, but the real situation would be entirely out of his comfort zone. She didn’t know where to start. But she did know two things. 

She was definitely coming to the party, and wild horses wouldn’t drag her away from being friends with Miranda.

Miranda picked up the bath sheet warming on the radiator and walked through to entice her lover out of the tub. It had been a long day, but a happy one. Maybe the spirit of Christmas was seeping into her. But she still hadn’t solved the problem of Andrea’s present!


	5. A husband for Hannah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy and her sister are reunited, while Caroline receives her heart's desire.

On the afternoon of December 20th Miranda was putting on her warmest jacket, prior to leaving the townhouse. It was now a sparkly kingdom of seasonal decorations, and smelt of pine forest and gingerbread from all the candles positioned through the rooms.

Despite herself, she was very happy with how everything looked, and the large tree, festooned with lights and little bells and bows in the downstairs hallway did make her think of Christmas as it was portrayed by Hollywood and on various cosy television programmes. Her bleak memories were still within her, but now, rather than simply bury them away in the dusty cellars of her mind, she could just be thankful they were no longer her real life. 

“Where are you off to, dear heart?” Andy came running down the stairs from her writing room, Pumpkin in her arms. They had been working on her novel together. 

“I’m meeting Caroline’s cello teacher this afternoon, for her to try out some different instruments. The time has come for my little girl to get her heart’s desire, her very own full-size cello, and if she feels confident with it, the plan is that she can play it in their school concert tomorrow. Cassidy is keen to join in the expedition to give her opinions as well.” 

Andy smiled and let go of Pumpkin who ran off to the kitchen to inspect his food bowl. 

“That’s fantastic, Miri. Just think, only three months ago we were stuffing cotton wool into our ears every time Caro practised. She has certainly come on so quickly in the last twelve weeks. But what about Cassidy? Have you finally settled on her Christmas present also?”

Miranda grinned as she pulled on her gloves. “Oh yes. In fact it will be delivered here later. Geoff and I have decided on a joint Christmas present for her this year, and we have ordered a proper astronomical telescope for looking at the night sky, with all the charts and a DVD which explains how to set it up.”

Andy nodded. “You mentioned that as an idea a while ago. I think it’s brilliant how you and Geoff are showing the girls both their parents will work together for them. I know they love it when you do. I also think Cassidy will absolutely go bananas over a telescope. But what a shame our Manhattan lights make it virtually impossible to see the stars from this house.”

“Yes, I know. That is why Geoff is taking the telescope back to his place along with the twins on December 23rd. He lives out in the Massachusetts woods, and will set it up for her there in his attic. I’m hoping it will encourage Cassidy to spend a little more time in his house. She’s always been the more reluctant twin to stay with him.”

“So let’s get this straight? Geoff and Cindy are coming tomorrow for the concert, staying over for the party, and then whisking our girls off to Boston until Christmas Day afternoon? What shall we do? We shall be very forlorn without them.”

“No we won’t. Geoff and I have worked this system out over several years’ trial and error. The Bobbsies really need to spend some holiday time with him, and their Priestly grandparents. Then the grandparents can return them to us for the rest of the Christmas vacation.” 

Miranda looked fierce as she continued, “Besides, I want some exclusive rights to you over Christmas as well. The way things were going, it looked as though I would hardly get a moment with you alone.”

Andy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Oh my beloved, I am so excited. It’s our first Christmas together. It’s so romantic!” Then she had a sudden random thought. “Where will Geoff and Cindy stay?”

“Oh, some convenient hostelry where he can get points on his credit card no doubt. Geoff always gets a kick out of mixing business with pleasure.”

Andrea wrapped her arms round Miranda and kissed her on the nose. “He’s not the only one. When I used to watch you bossing everyone about like the Queen Bee at Runway, mixing business with pleasure summed it up perfectly. You gave me virtual orgasms just walking past my desk.”

Miranda gave a little growl, not unlike Pumpkin. It was incredibly sexy, and Andrea couldn’t resist capturing her mouth and spoiling her lipstick. When Miranda escaped finally, her breast was heaving, and she had a distracted look in her eye. 

“When are Hannah and her fiancé due to arrive?” she managed to whisper, ineffectually fighting Andrea off. She really needed to be away to collect the girls from school, but these frequent wrestling matches with Andy were often far too adorable to resist.

“Roy and I are going together to collect them very shortly. Their plane is due in at 4pm, but they’ll be very jet-lagged, with their bio-rhythms all over the place. I expect they may go straight to bed.”

“Hmm, I know what that long route does to one coming from the Far East. It’s as bad as Australia”

“One day, I hope to find out. Maybe they’ll have a Japanese wedding?”

“Cara has aired the first guest room and turned up the heating. If you could turn on the electric blanket for them, sweetie, then they can retire as soon as they like. Or they can stay up for dinner with us if they prefer.”

“Don’t Japanese people like very hard beds? Perhaps we should make him up a bed on the floor up there? I hope he speaks English.”

“I’m sure he does.” But as Miranda made her escape, and went down to the garage to collect her car, she wondered if he did. She was as internationalist as the next New Yorker, but she was now stumped about what Japanese young men liked for dinner. Something with rice, she supposed!

She made it to Dalton’s in time and Cassidy and Caroline tumbled out of school, straight into their mother’s car. They all went to the huge music shop where they had arranged to meet Caroline’s teacher. With the sales assistant’s help, he showed and tried out for them several cellos, and Caroline settled on a Hungarian one, with a very sweet timbre. Her teacher exchanged the bow for a better one. 

“You’d be surprised what a difference the bow makes,” he told her. “It is half the instrument.”

Caroline had a little session playing the cello for herself, and was in seventh heaven. Compared to the mass-produced functional school instrument, this was on another level altogether.

The cello was packed into a rigid case, and whisked away in the careful hands of her teacher, who would tune it and treat the bow with rosin. Caroline and Cassidy had a lesson booked together the following afternoon to prepare for their duet at the concert, so she could take final possession of it then. 

As they left the music shop, they each took one of Miranda’s hands and said, “Mommy, we need a serious talk.”

Miranda was slightly anxious. “What about, my darlings?”

“Andy’s Christmas presents. We’re not sure we’ve bought enough. Can we go shopping now, to get her some extra stuff?”

This touched a raw nerve with Miranda. “What do you think she’ll like?”

“We know exactly one thing she’d like. But that’s a big secret.”

“What is it? If you know, tell me, because I haven’t even bought her my present yet. I was wondering about getting her a car of her own.”

“Oh Mom! Of course not!” “Silly Mommy!”

Caroline whispered something in Miranda’s ear, and Cassidy nodded enthusiastically, and whispered something in the other ear.

“Oh!” said Miranda, raising her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Both girls nodded. 

“And we know exactly where you could get one.”

“You do?”

“Yes, we can go there now. Come on!”

The daylight was already fast fading from the New York streets, but Miranda let them pull her back to the car, and followed their directions off to a road beyond Central Park. It was much later when they all returned home, whispering like conspirators together.

Miranda heard happy voices coming from the family room as she entered, and went forward to greet the visitors while the twins ran upstairs to change and throw down their school bags. She immediately recognised the girl standing by the fireplace as Hannah, Andy’s sister, not only from her photograph, but also because they did look remarkably alike. 

Hannah’s chestnut hair though, was tied back in a very neat and well brushed pony-tail, and her outfit was immaculate and certainly not from the High Street. Her manicure was perfect and she looked as neat as a pin. She was a very pretty girl with a sweet expression, but Miranda knew in an instant that she would never have lusted after her in a million years. Her own ragamuffin Andy would never need fear she had any rivals for Miranda’s devotion. 

“Hannah! Welcome! I’m so happy to see you, and . . . Harry?”

Here, Miranda nearly tripped over the hearth rug, for the young man who sprang to attention and came forward to grab her hands wasn’t Japanese at all. In fact he looked for all the world like a mad Irish man. 

“Yes, this is Harry.”

“Hi there Miranda! I think we’re going to be in-laws!”

From his accent, the young man was obviously Australian. He had bright red hair and clear blue eyes, and stood six foot two in his stockinged feet. Andrea and Hannah both laughed. 

Andrea said, “Yes, I was astonished too.” She turned to the others. “You know Miranda and I automatically assumed Harry was Japanese. Wasn’t that crazy? I just assumed.”

“I’m from Melbourne,” said Harry, “Back-packing round the world, and I met your gorgeous sister at a gig in Tokyo a couple of months ago. I fell for her immediately, and so I stayed on instead of heading down to South Korea.”

Hannah blushed. “Have you ever heard of love at first sight? Well I know it exists now, because it happened to me. There was just something magical, like a string drawing us together. I knew, I knew at once that he’s the one for me.”

Miranda and Andrea exchanged what novels call ‘meaningful glances’. What Hannah described had summed up their own feelings exactly. 

“Well, make yourselves completely at home,” said Miranda. “Mi casa es su casa! You could take a shower if you like, or just chill before supper. What would you like to eat? I was thinking of making a rice dish.”

“No!” chuckled the visitors, “Please!”

Harry said, “I’ve been living on rice for the last three months. Do you have any hamburgers by any chance?”

And so that was what they all ended up eating. The twins adored the new visitors, and chatted away like little birds. 

“Mommy has just given me a wonderful Christmas present,” said Caroline. “My very own cello, because I have been having lessons all this term, and I know I’m going to stay committed to it.” 

Harry looked as though he was going to fall asleep at the table, so he and Hannah made their apologies and retired upstairs. But as he went, he said, “The cello is a great instrument. In fact I have an uncle, my late father’s brother, who is a professional cellist. He lives in Sydney.”

“Wow,” said Andrea, “That’s a coincidence. We only recently met an Australian cellist in New York, playing at the Carnegie Hall.” 

She wanted to say his name. But for the space of twenty seconds, the name of Caroline’s new cellist hero just slipped from her mind, and by the time she recalled it, Hannah had whisked Harry away to their bedroom. She began to clear away the dishes.

Miranda just sat at the dining table. A frisson of something resembling a psychic shock went up and down her spine, but she couldn’t analyse it enough to understand why. Oh well. 

“Sorry Pumpkin,” she said to him, as the little cat jumped up on her knee. “It wasn’t fish after all. And nothing left of the hamburgers either. Not your lucky day.”

Pumpkin didn’t mind. He jumped down again, went through into the kitchen where she could hear him lapping some milk. This always made him feel a happy kitten.


	6. Cute little kilts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone starts talking at once. This is a very chatty little chapter.

“What shall we wear for the concert tonight, Andy?”

The twins had invaded their mother’s and Andy’s bedroom in the early morning and were cuddling up to her, as she lay in bed for a few precious moments before another frenetic day started. Miranda had already showered and disappeared downstairs to talk with Cara about stage-managing the next forty-eight hours. Besides the non-Japanese couple in the first guest room, Geoff had called very late the night before to ask if he and Cindy could put up at the town-house as well, rather than in a hotel. This would complicate the catering, let alone the human dynamics of what was becoming a house-party. 

Miranda had said, in typical fashion. “Oh, of course. Central New York has so few hotels these days.”

“It’s not that,” replied Geoff, well used and pretty well inoculated by now against her sarcasm. “It’s Cindy. She’s acting weird.”

“Could you perhaps expand on “weird”?”

“Well, very cool and distant suddenly. I think seeing me with you all in a family atmosphere might unfreeze her.”

“From what you told me, she has already thrown you out of the bedroom, and said she won’t marry you. So doesn’t that indicate a slight chill in the air already? Don’t you think lodging with your charming ex-wife and adorable daughters may not be the most effective way to change her mind.”

“Oh I think it might! There’s something happy and magical about you these days, girl. And the twins are equally bewitched into little angels. I think it will make me look good as a prospective hands-on Dad.”

“So you want this new baby now?”

“Of course I do. Hey, aren’t I a great Dad to our twins? Cindy needs to see that.”

Miranda gave in. 

“Oh what the hell. Yes, of course you can stay over if you want. The Bobbsies will appreciate it, and I’ll try to prime them not to be beastly to Cindy. I’ve never even met her. Will I like her, do you think? I’m not too bothered whether or not she likes me.”

“You must tell me after you meet. I know my other exes didn’t impress you, but Cindy has a few brains, and she’s not a gold digger.”

“Or certifiably bonkers?”

“Not totally sure about that. I think her mother certainly is, and I think it is her mother who has turned her against me.”

“Well, goodnight Geoff. It’s too late to worry about your girl-friend’s mother’s state of mind right now. I have a big Christmas party to arrange, in case you’ve forgotten. So just remind Cindy to bring something festive to wear. I can only reserve one guest room for you both, so she will have to share a bed with you and your snoring I’m afraid.”

So that had been Miranda’s last conversation before dropping exhausted into sleep next to Andy. No wonder she had jumped up early to organise rotas, food and linen changes for the next couple of days with Cara. 

The twins turned Andy’s mind firmly back to their costume dilemma for the school Christmas concert. 

“Uh, how formal is it supposed to be?”

“Not like the big Spring one. The school choir are all dressing up as snowmen.”

“So why don’t I see if I can find you some elves’ costumes then? That would be fun. A cello and piano playing elf duo.”

“Cool. You’re the best, Andy! If we’d asked Mom, she‘d have pushed us into awful kilts or something. But how will you find elves’ outfits? We can’t help as we have to go to school.”

“New York is a big city, and as you and your Mom know, I can do anything!”

Andy tickled them both and made them laugh. Then she pushed them out of bed so they could go to prepare for their last day at school before Christmas. 

As they fell deliberately onto the floor, she said, “If it’s not a state secret, what have you two bought as a present for your Mommy?”

The girls looked at each other, and then leaned forward to whisper to her, even though Miranda was safely two floors below.

“Not bought exactly. But we’ve sort of made something.”

“Oh?”  
“Promise you won’t tell, but we’ve written her a piece of music. We’ve been practising it at school. It’s a waltz, one, two, three, you know.”

“Our music teacher has helped us write it down and print it out like a proper piece of music.”

“Wow, how wonderful! Oh, girls, she will absolutely love that! When will you play it for her?”

“We thought when we come back home from Dad’s on Christmas Day in the evening.”

“I think that will be superb. You are geniuses. Well done! Oh, and what have you got for your father, another tie or some socks?”

“No,” Caroline said, slightly caustically. “A wine rack. We made it in woodwork club.”

“Well,” thought Andy, “Dalton’s certainly is a progressive school!”

And they all scuttled around to get dressed. It was very cold out, and looked like snow might be in the air. 

Across town, Sophia was having a tussle with her husband, just as she had predicted.

“I’m not going to some fancy Manhattan party. I can’t think why you ever thought I would!”

“Oh, come on Tony, just once, for me. We never go out, and this is a proper invitation. There will be people there you can talk to. Roy their driver is going with his wife, and he’s a very down-to earth fellow. Besides they’ve ordered six massive pizzas from you, with all the trimmings. Your specials!”

“So I’m just like, the pizza delivery guy then?”

“If you want to be like that. OK. But you could shave and put a suit on and come as a regular guest. She’s a wonderful person, my friend Miranda. She asked for you to come personally.”

“We’ll see.”

This was as positive an answer as Sophia could get out of her husband, so she decided to leave it there for now. After reflection on the way home from her last Italian lesson with Miranda, she’d decided to bottle the challenge of talking to him about lesbian lifestyles, and just let the situation roll, out as it happened. He might not even notice, he was so socially dense. But she knew if she even mentioned the L word, he wouldn’t come at all, and maybe even stop her going. 

That conversation took place in Queens. In the Runway offices, Emily was venting some of her on-going misery and fury with the world to Nigel.

“Dad is arriving at JFK at 5pm. I will have to go to meet him, and it will be absolute hell in Arrivals.”

“No progress yet though on Daddy’s homophobic attitudes?”

“No, he’s still paralysed with shock I think. What’s worse is I’m having to put him up in my tiny one-roomer though. I shall have to sleep on the fucking floor.”

Nigel was always kind. He thought of the poor little white haired old cleric suffering from shock in the big Apple, and of Emily coping with her truly broken heart while trying to be a good hostess to the man who had largely caused it.

“Look, Charlton, send your father round to my place. I have three bedrooms. He can stay with me, and then when you make it up with Serena and move back to her apartment, he can have the rest of his holiday in New York staying at your place.” 

“That’s a fantasy. But, Nigel, thanks so much. Yes, I’ll accept. Ironic though, as he seems allergic to anything gay, that I send him off to be a houseguest with the King of Camp.”

“Do you want to take up my offer or not?”

“Yes. Please. Sorry Nigel. Thank you.”

“What about Serena? Progress there?”

Emily simply shook her head. 

“She’s Brazilian. She won’t change her mind. She won’t apologise or compromise. However much she loves me, and I know she does. What will we do at Miranda and Andy’s party? We’ll have to just make sure we stay in different rooms. It will be a real fun evening.”

“And are you still going to bring your father?”

“Damn right I am. However grim I feel, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And I’ll have to bring him.”

“Then you had better let them know.”

“I will.”

Emily called Miranda later in the morning. After all the many months she had worked for her, this still made her nervous. The sound of Miranda’s cool and musical voice as she answered the call made Emily’s insides quiver. 

She could still not understand how Andy could dare to treat their erstwhile boss with such reckless teasing, and physical abuse. Emily had seen love-bites on Miranda’s neck far too often not to imagine what else went on behind closed doors. 

Miranda helped her along with her faltering request. . Nigel had already primed her about the break-up with Serena and Emily’s clerical father descending on New York. 

“Of course, bring him. This party is rapidly becoming something beyond all of our control. One more guest will be fine, and if we have a murder mystery on the premises, then an Anglican clergyman will fit in perfectly. Just like an Agatha Christie farce.”

“No-one’s going to get killed, surely?”

Emily panicked for a moment. She never would understand Miranda’s sense of humour. 

“No Emily, not if I can help it. But look, what is this Nigel tells me about you and Serena? That really won’t do. Tell me all about it, now. I insist.”

Emily always obeyed Miranda’s instructions to the letter. She sat down at her desk, pulled over a box of Kleenex and began to recount the sorry story. 

Twenty minutes later, when she had finally switched off her phone, Miranda nibbled the frame of her glasses, and sighed. She mentally added, “Sorting out E and S.” to her long list of to-dos, and went to find out where Andrea had flown off to. She was behaving like a veritable Tinkerbell these days. 

Hannah and Harry were sleeping late. Cara was upstairs making up a bedroom for Geoff and Cindy. All was quiet for fifteen minutes. Miranda decided to have a nice hot cup of coffee, and put her feet up before the next round. Then she remembered the twins’ need for clothes for the school concert. Of course, there were those nice little kilts they looked so cute in. They would fit the ticket perfectly!


	7. Andy catches a cold.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much to do, and Andy is sent off to bed. But she has Miranda to look after her. No worries then.

Miranda, Andrea, Cassidy and Caroline were all in Caroline’s bedroom, having a stand-off about clothes. As arguments went it wasn’t exactly vicious, but Miranda still felt rather bullied and outnumbered by her family. It was also the very first time Andrea had actually told her not to be stupid, in front of the twins. She stood her ground, and tried to face them all down.

The very stylish tartan plaid kilts lay on Caroline’s bed, coupled with neat navy blue sweaters and white shirts with peter-pan collars. Her daughters would look lovely in them, Miranda was convinced.

“Who is it in this family who is famous for having the best taste in clothes in New York?”

“You, Mommy. Everyone knows that. But even the best can sometimes have an off day. These kilts are awful.”

“Anyway, we’ve already sorted our outfits. Andy has bought us elf costumes, and we like them. They’re really funky.”

As usual, the twins finished each other’s arguments. Wham, wham.

“You didn’t object to the kilts when we bought them last Easter.”

“Because we had no choice then. Anyway, we’ve outgrown them. They will be far too short now.”

“Honestly, would you have worn them when you were ten?”

Caroline pressed her point home, not realising the sudden pang of painful memory her words caused her mother. When Miranda was ten, she’d had one faded, pitifully short dress, and one old coat. An outfit like the one she had bought her girls would have been beyond her wildest dreams. 

Then she realised what she was doing. It wasn’t the twins she was dressing, it was her own small ten-year-old self. She was reliving the wonder of that child on the blessed day she was rescued back in 1966 and sent straight to an orphanage, of the joy of having warm clean clothes for the first time, which actually fitted, underwear which was respectable and socks without holes. 

Knowing this, and realising she shouldn’t try to recreate a fantasy childhood for herself through her twins, she flung up her hands in resignation. 

“Oh, have it your own way. I can’t be bothered with any of you. Just make sure your elf caps don’t have bells on them. That will really spoil your performance if they jingle all through your piece.”

Having won their victory, Cass and Caro were immediately magnanimous and put their arms round her and kissed her fondly. Andy watched them as they then scampered out of the room, and she stayed behind.

She was very sorry she’d been so rude to Miranda, and not sure why it had happened. For some reason she felt irritable and out of sorts, not her usual merry self, but she shouldn’t have snapped at Miranda, and she certainly shouldn’t have told her she was stupid in front of the girls. 

She took both her lover’s hands and kissed them. 

“I’m so sorry, Miri. I’m not sure what came over me. I’ve just been out of sorts today.”

Miranda had been rather hurt, but couldn’t stay angry any longer. 

“Give me a hug, and I’ll forgive you. Actually I am far more concerned about what you yourself are planning to wear to the party tomorrow.”

Andy wrapped her arms round Miranda and enjoyed the moment. Then her usual high spirits surfaced and she said, “Well, we said “Festive” on the invitation. I was planning to wear my Christmas jumper with the reindeer face on it. It’s great. When you press Rudolf’s nose it lights up.”

“Um. Really?” Miranda’s face gave nothing away.

“No darling, not really! I wouldn’t do that to you. I thought the dark green silk dress you bought for me in August might be right. It really is lovely and looks very seasonal.” 

“By coincidence, I thought of pulling out the red dress I wore that same evening, up in Provincetown. With a pile of gold jewellery on top. You know, flash the bling.”

“Lady in Red. You looked divine in that dress. So we’d all be in red and green, with the twins in their outfits as little elves. That would be great.”

“Yes. And will you wear your emerald ear-rings? I love the way they fall towards your delicious collar-bones.”

“Certainly darling. But now, I have a heap of other arrangements and messages to fill you in on. All the invitations sent to the twins’ friends’ parents have been responded to with acceptances, including one or two hints from a few parents asking if they can stay for the party themselves rather than simply dropping their kids off. I think they’re just keen to see inside our house. Bit cheeky, don’t you think?”

“Well, the children’s party starts at six and finishes at nine. So at least they should be gone by then.”

“Possibly. Then Mrs Treacle called. She says she needs to get here by four to get ready, dress the party room and set up her “special effects”.”

“The mind boggles. But all right, I suppose that sounds reasonable. She’ll be upstairs anyway. If you can hide away your office equipment then she can have the run of most of the top floor. What else has happened while I’ve been at the hair salon?”

“Hannah and Harry have gone out Christmas shopping. They’ll be back in time to come with us all to the concert though.”

“And Cindy and Geoff?”

“Going to meet us at the school. So Cindy is still an unknown quantity. Oh, and Emily has confirmed her father has landed and she is definitely bringing him, and Sal’s partner, Kerry, has her mother in tow. “

“How many on the guest list so far?”

“Including these folk, forty eight. We must know and like more people than we thought.”

“Like is the operative word, darling. I’ve tried to winkle out the Elias-Clarke heavies, and people I actively loathe. At least these people remaining all have something different about them, which should be amusing.”

Miranda silently added two extra names to the list, Andy’s friends Lily and Douglas. According to Nigel they were both definite guests, complete, she hoped, with a proper amount of remorse. Miranda was not naturally a forgiving woman, but she vowed to try her hardest not to box both their ears.

She looked at Andrea now, such a loving, sweet hearted soul, and then looked again. Andrea had a hectic red flush across her face, and seemed to be sweating slightly.

“Are you feeling all right, love?” she asked.

Andrea pulled a little face. “Well, I’ve been kind of out of sorts all day. Grumpy for no reason, and now you mention it, my throat is rather sore and my arms and legs have begun to ache.”

Miranda was alarmed. “Then you certainly mustn’t come out in the cold air tonight. It may be flu or a bad cold coming. Stay home, darling and go to bed early. I think you’re running a temperature.”

“But the twins’ concert! I can’t let them down!”

“Of course they won’t think that. Go upstairs and take some Advil. You’ll not win this battle with me, darling. You don’t want to miss the party tomorrow, do you?”

Andrea shook her head. Her throat was suddenly too sore to answer Miranda verbally. She allowed herself to be frogmarched up the stairs in the best Miranda fashion, and was actually happy to undress and fall into bed. Her teeth started to chatter, and she alternated between too hot and freezing cold. It was only 5pm, but she fell asleep almost immediately. 

So that was why Andrea missed the Christmas concert, an event everyone who attended said went down in the school’s history as one of the best. Without Andrea at her side, Miranda could concentrate on all their guests, and especially on the very negative vibes coming from Geoff’s young girlfriend, Cindy.

Cindy intrigued Miranda. To start with, she didn’t look nearly as stupid as her silly name suggested, and as the biased twins had claimed. She was little, but fierce, with her pregnancy already obvious now at four months, and a serious, rather sad expression in her grey eyes. She had silver blonde hair, and rather too high heels for a pregnant woman. Miranda realised she was looking at a much younger version of herself, not too dissimilar to the woman Geoff had married all those years ago. At least she was a serious human being, not a bimbo. 

On stage, the Elf Duo brought the house down, not only with their playing, but with the irresistible merriment in their performance, and their cute costumes. Miranda sadly admitted to herself that in this, Andrea and the girls had been right after all. 

After the concert, which ended by nine, everyone in the Priestly family party gathered in the foyer, and welcomed the girls coming from back stage. Harry and Hannah, by now recovering from the worst of their jet-lag, were both very enthusiastic. Harry even lifted Cassidy off her feet, and swung her round. 

“Are you going to be my uncle?” she laughed. “I can’t quite work it all out. We are getting to be a very complicated family.”

“Sure, I’m going to be your uncle! I’m going to marry your soon-to-be step-mom’s sister.”

“Well, you look like my uncle!”

Miranda considered the two of them, man and child, and thought that was strangely true. They both had ginger curls and a slightly crazy expression. She followed her instincts and asked Hannah a question which had been on her mind for the last twenty four hours.

“Hannah, what’s Harry’s last name?”

“Beaumont.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

Miranda was both relieved and strangely disappointed. So Harry wasn’t related either to their new Cellist friend, Charles Anderson, or in an even wilder coincidence to members of her family in some way. There was no Beaumont anywhere that she could remember. She had possessed a glimmer of an idea that the Universe might be trying to reconnect her with her long lost brothers, but this seemed not to be the case. 

It would be good to have an extended family, like the Sachs tribe, but at least Geoff’s new baby, obviously on the way in a few months, would give the twins a new sibling. Maybe in the New Year, she might discreetly set on a private investigator to track her British birth family members down, not only the unknown numbers of siblings on her absent father’s side, but also those premature little twin brothers adopted forty-five years ago in London. 

She felt strong enough to do this now, and maybe she could help them come to terms with their less than positive start in life. She could tell them about their mother, anyway, and what a sweet-hearted, loving soul she had been. 

When they had all settled back home, and the twins had gone upstairs, Geoff followed them up to tuck them in, and maybe read them a bedtime story like he used to do when they were little. Miranda meanwhile offered Cindy a hot chocolate drink as a night-cap, and ushered her into the study for a quiet chat. 

“I can see you’re not happy. Do you want to talk about it?”

Cindy was astonished at how open and forthright Geoff’s ex-wife was with her. She had imagined all sorts of terrible things about her, mainly based it was true, from social media, but also from the assumption that all one’s partner’s ex-partners were to be feared, if not loathed. 

She knew she was less than half Miranda's age, but it didn’t give her any comfort, more an acute sense of inadequacy and inferiority. Miranda and Geoff had a whole life history together she could never share. But she did need to talk to someone about the state of her relationship, and her crazy mother had been no help at all.

“I do love Geoff, and I really wanted this baby. But. . . I’ve been getting repeated bad dreams about Geoff dying, even before it’s born. His cholesterol and blood pressure levels are both through the roof. Also, was he always such a heavy drinker? He seems to get through a case of wine and a couple of bottles of bourbon or scotch in a week.”

Miranda replied, “Yes, I’ve been worried as well, for more than a year. Not only for our daughters’ sake but for my own. Let me talk to him, and see if between us we can’t make him change his ways for the better. You know it started getting out of control with the last divorce, the drinking I mean. But your refusal to marry him until he sobers up may have helped turn him round. That really shocked him.”

“I know. He thinks he’s God’s gift, doesn’t he?” Cindy smiled at Miranda. They had something in common at least. They had both had sex with Geoff Priestly which was a relatively small, if not entirely exclusive club.

“Finish your cocoa, and get a good night’s sleep my dear. I must go and see how my own lover is getting on. If she ends up coughing all night, and Geoff snores, then you and I might both be sleeping on the sofa down here!”

When Miranda entered her bedroom and saw the lamp was still on, she began to worry about Andrea’s fever. Andy was awake and the sheets were damp. She tried to reassure Miranda all was well, but as she could hardly speak, this wasn’t very successful. 

“I’m fine,” she croaked. “I’m just going to take another Advil and gargle with some warm salt water.“

Miranda bundled her out of bed and sat her in her dressing gown in the large armchair. 

“You stay there while I change the sheets, and fetch you some different pyjamas. I hope it’s only a cold, but we can’t be too careful.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s not your fault. And I will cancel the party in a second if you wish.”

“Oh no! I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow. You certainly can’t cancel the party. I’m only sorry I couldn’t come to the concert, or spend this evening with Hannah. But she put her head round the door on the way to bed. It seems the girls were fantastic.”

“They were. Natural little show-offs of course. But their music was superb. Even if I’m not allowed to say that as their mother.”

Miranda nursed Andy like a proper old-fashioned English hospital matron, and stayed with her until she fell back to sleep. Then she retrieved her own nightclothes and quietly slipped away. She spent the night in Cara’s room on the top floor, feeling her family all around her in the various rooms of the townhouse. Before she slept she could hear the dulcet tones of her ex-husband snoring rhythmically away in the room below her. She just hoped poor Cindy had brought ear-plugs with her. 

Miranda was up early as usual the next morning, long before the winter dawn. She peeped in at Andrea, and was relieved to see she was fast asleep and her temperature looked as though it was dropping back to near normal. 

Down in the kitchen she found Geoff chatting up Pumpkin. There was something about a ginger kitten to charm even the grumpiest of bears. Geoff did look though as if he had a sore head.

“Hi, how was your night?”

“Cindy kicked me out at 2 am. I’ve been sleeping on the couch in your family room and this little guy lay all across my chest. It’s a good job I don’t suffer from allergies.”

“I’ll make us both a coffee. I’m not surprised Cindy did. I could hear you snoring from the room above.”

As Miranda filled up the coffee machine, she continued. “She’s very worried about you, Geoff. We both are. Stop drinking, now! It will kill you if you don’t.”

Geoff tried to put on the little-boy-being told-off look, but it had no effect whatsoever.

“I am not going to play games with you. If you stop drinking, you will live to see your current children grow up, and maybe even get to meet your grandchildren. And the little baby will have a father.”

“O.K.”

“O.K. what?”

“O.K. I’ll quit. From now on. No more. Nada. Zilch. I’m on the waggon from now on.”

Miranda passed him his coffee, and then remembered.

“Oh dear. The twins have been making you a wine-rack for Christmas!”

“That’s fine. I’ll load it up with tomato juice and ginger ale.”

“Are you serious about this?”

“I am. Truly. You are right, girl, as you usually are. And I love Cindy. I want to keep her.”

“Well, if it’s true you’ve made us both very happy.” 

And for the first time in more than eight years, Miranda dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

She grabbed her coffee and went off to shower.

“Feed Pumps, will you? And let him out of the back door. He’s just learning to poop outside now.”

Miranda made Andrea stay in bed until after lunch, and Cara plied her with her secret cold relief recipe of hot lemon juice, copious amounts of honey and a shot of whiskey. By two o’clock she was over the worst, and the sore throat had turned into a fit of sneezing, which anti-histamines kept under control. 

She was able to spend a delightful hour or two just with Hannah, discussing wedding plans, and between them they began to hatch a secret idea of having a shared wedding. Then Andy remembered.” Oh, Shoot! Same sex marriage won’t be legal in Ohio. That’s why Miranda and I are planning one up in Massachusetts.”

“Maybe we can still do some sort of joint event. Let’s talk to our loved ones, and to Mom about it. I can’t wait to take Harry home to meet her and Dad. But I was sorry to miss Thanksgiving. How did your trip go?”

“Dad started off in a bad place, but Miranda charmed him round, and I think he’s OK now about us. They both discovered a shared enthusiasm for Cox's Orange Pippins!”

“She’s wonderful, your Miranda. She reminds me of a Fairy Godmother.”

“Not the wicked witch?”

“Of course not! Now get over your cold, and let’s all have some fun. Can I help with anything? Would you like me to wrap up all your presents for the family? I learned how to do origami work with paper in Japan, and if I say it myself, I can make up beautiful gift wrapped parcels, complete with bows and paper flowers.”

Andy was extremely grateful, as fiddling about with sheets of wrapping paper and fancy bows was not one of her strengths. She had two paper carrier bags full of presents ready for wrapping, and told Hannah where they were. She then took a hot shower and put on a warm tracksuit which would be fine until she finally dressed for the party. 

Only when she heard the front door bell start to ring several times in quick succession, did she realise the party caterers, entertainer and even florists had begun to arrive downstairs. It was time to emerge, cold or no cold. The party, or parties rather, were about to begin.


	8. Come in out of the cold!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guests begin to arrive, and the fun begins. Miranda makes Serena give her side of the argument which caused her and Emily to break up.

As Andy left her room she met Mrs Treacle halfway up the stairs, assisted by the ever- efficient Cara, who was walking in front of her and carrying two of her four large bags of costumes and equipment. 

“Hi there,” she said, “Need another hand?” And Mrs Treacle, pausing for breath on the first landing, happily handed over one of her other bags. They carried on up the stairs in convoy and when they came to the top landing, all set down their loads with some relief. Mrs Treacle certainly had a full set of tricks with her.

She was definitely a big lady, weighing in at around 280 lbs, but she had a warm, mobile face and a shock of greying black hair she had dyed a bright red quite a while back. Andy showed her the available rooms. There were three at her disposal, including the music room, with Cara’s room and Andy’s study out of bounds, and she seemed happy.

“Leave it to me, kiddoes. I’ll just do some decorating and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Are you going to tell them a fairy story?” asked Andy. “And if so, which one?”

“Hansel and Gretel.”

“Wow. Scary.”

“Yes, it generally goes down very well with older kids.”

“Would you like anything to eat or drink while you set up?” asked Cara.

“No, I’ll be fine. I have my own thermos flask with me.”

So they left her to it, and descended to the dining room, where the caterers were putting the final touches to the beautiful long table, decorated for a Christmas buffet. Candles were lit along the length of it, and the arrangement of gold and silver balls, little red and white roses, gold candelabra and sparkly green and gold foliage did look lovely. 

Miranda’s good taste as always, was in evidence. On the drinks table, there was champagne, a mulled fruit cup and large pitchers of non-alcoholic cranberry and lemon-lime mock-tails.

Members of the assorted house party gathered in the kitchen, out of the way of the professionals prepping the rest of the house, and tucked in to a large assortment of toasted sandwiches which Cara was creating on demand. 

“Eat something now, and then you won’t gorge yourselves on the pizzas later,” Miranda had said to her girls. 

“It’s never a good look when the hosts eat all the food before the guests can get near the table. Don’t forget, you are the hosts upstairs and responsible for your friends’ happiness. And also, try to not let everyone up there get too rowdy. We have people coming to the adult party who may be of a nervous disposition and not used to a dozen ten-year-olds running riot.” She had in mind Emily’s clergyman father as she spoke. He sounded stuffiness personified.

Miranda’s little sermon was directed at the twins, but her advice seemed to be going down just as well with her adult house guests, who all lined up for toasties. Andy felt personally she couldn’t eat a thing and decided to go back to the bedroom and change into her party frock and heels. Within a few moments, Miranda joined her. 

“How are you, my love? I’m still worried about you, you know.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. It’s only a cold. I must just tuck paper tissues into my bra in case I have another sneezing episode. I’ll try not to infect everyone. At least my headache and sore throat have subsided.”

Miranda stood behind Andrea who was sitting at the dressing table, and put her hands on her shoulders. She wanted to gather her up in her arms and kiss all the nasty cold away. Not the most sensible idea though if she wanted to avoid succumbing to a cold herself. So instead she ran her fingers through Andy’s little crop of chestnut hair, the ends of which were curling, very sweetly she thought.

“Would you like me to trim it, just a little bit, so it stops looking like a bottle-brush?”

“Hmm. Yes, if we have time.”

“Oh I always have time for your hair, long or short.”

Miranda reached for her hairdressing scissors, but then another little spark of mischief got into her, and instead of snipping Andrea’s hair, she bent down and kissed the back of her neck, licking her behind the ears and making her wriggle.

“Oh, darling, stop!”

“Why?”

“Because we have forty or more guests due in a few minutes. And if you behave like that, I won’t let you out of this bedroom in time to meet them.”

“There are times, Andrea, when I think you are a total spoilsport. You can be so boring.” 

Miranda now put her hands down the front of Andy’s dress and flagrantly cupped her breasts under her flimsy lace bra. 

“Stop it! Are you going to trim my hair or not?”

Miranda withdrew her hands and sniffed in mock disappointment. 

“Oh very well. Sit still.”

She took the scissors and comb, and managed to make Andy’s cropped hair look more stylish, even if it was still only three centimetres long. Then she hung the emerald ear-rings in her ears, turned her round and applied her make-up for her. Andrea let her, because she knew how much Miranda loved to play with her face. She shut her eyes and let her mistress apply her eye shadow and then mascara. As always the resulting look was far more sultry and glamorous than she could have achieved.

“You’ll do.”

Then Miranda went to the closet to retrieve her own dress and sort out her jewellery, so Andy returned downstairs, careful in her Jimmy Choo high heels, and with her bra line enhanced by Kleenex tissues, the only place she could think to store them. For someone who a few moments before had sported a red nose and watering eyes, she knew she now looked good. Harry and Hannah both whistled with approval as she sashayed into the room. Then the front door bell rang. 

As she opened it, Sophia with a fat Italian guy (obviously “Spiv”) walking behind her, entered, both of them carrying several boxes of super-size pizzas. On the steps behind them were several children with accompanying parents, all of whom moved forward inside the house, stamping their feet, and banging their hands together from the cold. The mercury was dropping fast outside. 

“Good evening everyone. Welcome to our party!” 

Andrea decided to hold the fort until Miranda descended, even though the time was still short of Six pm. She beckoned the twins forward and gave them instructions about relieving their friends of their outdoor coats and scarves, putting them away in their bedrooms. The downstairs closets were soon going to be overflowing with adults’ coats, as the weather outside on the streets was bitter.

“Run up and ask Mrs Treacle if she’s ready to receive you all, please Cass.”

Cassidy obeyed and returned in a few minutes looking slightly tense. “She says OK, but it’s rather spooky up there. She has turned the big room into a cave with weird lights and huge hairy spiders.”

“Cool!” said one of the twins’ friends. “Yes, looking good.” replied Cassidy. “I think it’s going to be a different sort of party, anyway.”

Then the doorbell rang again. The children’s party guests were certainly prompt.

Harry said, “Why don’t I act as the doorman, so you can sort out people a drink and direct the children where to go?”

Cara also came forward, grinned at Sophia and relieved her and her husband of the pizzas. “Let’s pop these in the oven and heat them up when they’re ready for them. Caroline, find out when the lady upstairs wants you all to break to eat them.”

So now Caroline had the same task as her sister, running up and down three floors of stairs to deliver a message and get the reply. By now most of the children had assembled. 

Miranda came down the stairs, looking a million dollars, and Andy felt a proud woman as she watched all the children, and their Moms and Dads take in an audible gasp of appreciation on seeing her.

Whatever star quality was, Miranda had it in buckets, and tonight she had obviously decided to just go for it, and shine. She looked genuinely happy, without the subtle bass-notes of melancholy which sometimes crossed her face.

“Welcome everyone. Children, Mrs Treacle is waiting for you, if you’d like to go upstairs with Cassidy and Caroline.”

A thundering herd of elephants would have made less noise, as the little guests followed her prompt.

The parents though stayed downstairs, looking hopeful.

Miranda took the hint, and said, “Come on through and get a drink. It’s good to see you all. Hannah, could you please take people’s coats for them and put them in the closet. Thanks so much.”

Andrea chuckled. Hannah, faced with this onslaught of civility would never, never believe how rude Miranda had generally been to her younger sister in the old days. 

“Of course, one must remember she was trying her hardest to make me hate her,” Andy thought. “Thank God it never worked.”

Sophia and Spiv, or Tony, as she introduced him to everyone, had retreated into the kitchen, where he hoped he could stay for the duration of the party. Cara was friendly, but he was totally in awe of Miranda and the size and style of the whole interior of the house. He was beginning to understand what had charmed his old woman so much. She looked ten years younger than she had a few months ago. She’d certainly lost a few pounds, and she even smelt different. Then through the back door he saw a very small cat, followed by Roy and his wife. They were real New Yorkers, from Yonkers.

“I parked up behind. It’s going to get very crowded out front.”

Roy unwrapped his overcoat and muffler and underneath had on a striped blazer and a jaunty straw hat. Not exactly suitable for the season, but definitely festive. Mrs Roy, called Jean, wore a sparkly dress covered in sequins, and looked determined to enjoy herself. She and Andy had already met, and went to exchange hugs but Andy drew back. 

“Sorry, I’ve caught a bit of a cold,” said Andy. I’m only hoping I don’t give it to everyone. Roy, there’s plenty of beer down here, if you guys would prefer it to champagne or soft drinks. Can you help yourselves?”

Sophia had already had a short chat with Roy on one of her recent chauffeured journeys back and forth, and primed him to befriend her husband and stop him bolting for the door. From the cosy “below stairs” feel of the kitchen Roy was sure he could lure him out to mingle properly as a fully paid-up guest, not just a pizza delivery man, before the evening was over. 

Up in the main reception rooms, the parents’ set had dived into the champagne and were already looking interestedly at the canapes. The suitably uniformed student waiters and waitresses started circulating with trays of snacks.

Geoff and Cindy, who had signed a truce for the evening, shared the responsibility of hosting them all, most of whom Miranda had only the vaguest memory of meeting before. She urgently needed Andrea’s help in remembering names. Geoff clutched his cranberry and lime mock tail like he actually expected to drink it, and gathered the other fathers round him to laugh and joke like a man magnet. Andy came through and took Miranda’s arm. 

“Tricia! Hi. How lovely to see you!” she greeted the nearest mother. “I don’t think Miranda has had the chance to meet you before. How is Sally’s asthma? I was so sorry to hear she had to miss school last week.”

Miranda followed her lead, and worked the room. What had she done to capture such a wonderful girl, not only a completely gorgeous princess, but who was also a genius at remembering faces and names? She held her close, and one by one the parents cottoned on that this was the prime relationship in the house. With a couple of glasses of champagne down their throats, no-one seemed the slightest bit affronted. 

Then the second shift started, as the main adult party guests started to arrive. Miranda noticed Serena coming in from the cold, looking as beautiful as ever, but frankly also completely wrecked. She looked as though she hadn't slept for a week. Miranda slipped away from Andy and went over to rescue her. 

“My God, girl. What have you been doing to yourself? Come with me!”

And she took Serena by the arm and walked her straight into the little study, closing the door behind them.

“I’ve heard Emily’s side of the story. Now tell me yours.” One never disobeyed Miranda, so Serena, even before she had taken her coat off, sat down and began to talk.


	9. Better than a horror film!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone arrives for the party, and Mrs Treacle works her magic. Miranda recognises a face from her past.

What Serena told Miranda behind closed doors no-one else ever knew, but ten minutes later the two of them emerged and Serena disappeared into the downstairs cloak-room, presumably to repair the damage another fit of weeping had done to her make-up.

Miranda shook herself down like a hen settling her feathers, and moved forward to greet what was fast becoming a constant stream of people pouring through her front-door. Non-Japanese Harry was certainly having to work hard as doorman, and Hannah was achieving wonders hanging everyone’s hats and coats up in the closets in the hall. 

People had generally taken the idea of “Festive” very seriously, and there was a ridiculous amount of sparkle and shine in evidence. An invitation to Miranda’s Priestly’s Christmas party had done wonders for the New York fashion retailers, and she and Andy were probably the only females present who had not splurged out on new frocks for the occasion. 

Miranda had booked a jazz trio, who were setting up in a corner of the main reception room, and bubbling seasonal saxophone music started to wind its way round the house. Everyone seemed to be having a great time, in whichever room they had assembled. 

Then Nigel, Doug and Lily all arrived together and the level of Campiness rose by several degrees. Nigel wore a purple smoking jacket and his companions both had more sequins on their clothes than was reasonable. Andrea saw him first and rushed over to give him a non-contagious embrace but then saw who he had behind him, and positively cried with joy. 

“Lily! Doug! How wonderful!”

They both dropped their eyes and looked very red in the face. Andrea hardly noticed however, and gave them a firm group hug.  
Nigel smoothed the path. “Yes, here are your old playmates, back from a six months expedition to the Antarctic. Miranda asked me to track them down.”

“Come in, have a drink. It’s so wonderful to see you.”

Douglas and Lily realised, if they hadn’t before, what a lovely person Andrea truly was, and not having set eyes on her since the end of June, were genuinely shocked and mortified by the change in her appearance. Her hair was only now growing back from being completely shaved off, and it brought home to them what she must have gone through. She’d also lost at least ten pounds from the early summer.

Douglas felt terrible, but Lily’s self- loathing was in a whole new category of its own. She knew she had to come clean, as soon as possible, about Nate, and about her vicious slander. But on the other hand she didn’t want to ruin Andy’s party. She should probably wait until they could talk together privately. Andy sent them in the direction of the drinks table, but then had to return to the hall to continue receiving guests.

Luckily for Lily and Douglas, Miranda had not seen them arrive. She was more concerned about the children’s party upstairs which had now been going for more than an hour and a half. She was convinced she could hear the faint sounds of children screaming from the attic, and tried to extricate Geoff from his gang of new pals. 

She knew just what he would be doing, drumming up business from any of the Dalton fathers who might need a divorce lawyer in the near future. Honestly, her ex-husband was incorrigible! He pulled her now into his circle of new mates, and the men all perked up. Miranda, after all, was a very beautiful woman. 

“Here, let me introduce you. This guy runs the Mercedes outlet, if you ever want to change your car, and Bernie, here, is opening a new restaurant up in the Village later this year.” 

Geoff was at his most ebullient, but Miranda was surprised, and pleased, to see he still wasn’t drinking alcohol. Cindy, sitting down in a corner, talking to one of the Dalton Moms, seemed much more relaxed as well. 

Miranda smiled, but tugged at Geoff’s elbow. She said quietly, “Geoff, can you go upstairs and check on the girls? I think one of us should be chaperoning them, and Cara is too busy in the kitchen keeping the flow of warmed canapes going for the servers.”

“OK. ‘Scuse me fellows. Got to go and be a Dad!” And Geoff obediently disappeared up the stairs, grabbing a handful of roasted cashew nuts to munch as he went. 

Then the NYPD’s finest, Sally McCarthy, turned up, dressed in a dinner jacket and black trousers, topped with reindeer ears and a scarf of tinsel, along with her partner Kerry, equally butchily attired, though in her case her tuxedo just accentuated her very pretty face and slim figure. She wasn’t built like a brick wall, unlike Sally, handsome though the police officer was.

Miranda and Andy greeted them together, and then welcomed Kerry’s mother, who had certainly gone for bling. She was over sixty, but had dressed for all the world like a sixteen year old. Red and white striped leggings, which didn’t go that well with her mini skirt and blue leather jacket, also unfortunately clashed with her sparkly green hair. But the whole ensemble certainly looked festive, even if she rather resembled a colour-blind elf who had drunk far too much goblin juice already. 

“Hi, I’m Trixie. Lovely to meet you.”

She wobbled slightly on four inch heels as she came through the door. Andy remembered Kerry telling her about her parents’ rather bitter divorce, and the way her Mom had been in depression ever since. Her ensemble tonight though seemed to indicate the lady was perking up a little.

“Come in! Come in! Fantastic you could come!” Andy greeted them all with her usual enthusiasm. She was trying to think who had still not arrived, for the house was beginning to groan with festive party-goers. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Roy pushing Sophia’s husband in front of him from the kitchen up towards the dining room, and then Pumpkin running past them to make a dash for it up the stairs. Even the kitchen had become too noisy and crowded for his liking, and he obviously thought the best place might be up at the top of the house where it was usually always quiet and peaceful. 

Harry closed the door against the cold night air, but then the door-bell rang again, and he opened it to greet Emily, wrapped up in a fur coat in defiance already at whoever might try to object to her mink, and followed by a tall, older man with watchful eyes.

Nigel, who had already met the Revd Charlton and installed him in his guest room, whispered in Miranda’s ear. “Oh, here he is. Watch out, he’s not exactly the frail old soul we imagined. In fact he’s not someone I’d like to meet in a dark alley. More what you might call an example of “muscular Christianity.”

Miranda put out her hand and grasped Emily’s frozen fingers. “Come in Emily. And introduce me to your father. “

The Revd Charlton came forward and held out his hand. He looked tall, dark, and not particularly handsome.

“How do you do? Trevor Charlton.”

Miranda reciprocated, but barely let him touch her fingers. She never thought she would be shocked into silence again in her life, but for a moment she was pole-axed. 

She knew him. In fact she knew him very well indeed. Emily’s father was better known to Miranda as “Bobby” Charlton, nicknamed after the famous British footballer who had led the national team to victory in the World Cup of 1966. 

He had also been the stuff of nightmares when Miranda was fourteen and living in foster care in Lewisham, South London. Trev, or “Bobby”, Charlton had been the acknowledged leader of the local mafia and the main drug-dealer across three boroughs. His crimes were many and various, and his reputation definitely scary.

This man, with his harsh white dog-collar, (Who wears a dog-collar to a party anyway?) had been personally responsible for dragging her older foster-brother into selling drugs and so on into custody and a ruined life. 

Her foster parents, the best of all the ones she had had, had been thereafter stopped from looking after children, and all their little foster family had been scattered and separated. It had been traumatic for everyone. As a result she had lost her paper-round, her Saturday job at the hair-salon, and lost touch for ever with several of her best friends. But Miranda had by no means been the worst hit. He had broken up their happy home, and many others.

The last she had heard of him, sometime in 1969, Bobby Charlton had been convicted and sent down for seven years in Wandsworth Gaol after the police finally nailed him. It seemed he had found Jesus somewhere along the way, and successfully managed to reinvent himself. Well, what do you know!

A wave of righteous anger swept across Miranda, on behalf of Emily and Serena and all his other victims. She just wondered if Emily had any idea at all of her own father’s history, but didn’t want to shock her to the core by immediately exposing him. 

But she knew what she could and probably would do, before the end of the evening. He obviously didn’t recognise her as the little kid with ginger pigtails who hung around with the older foster care kids he had targeted, but he would soon find out she had a long memory. 

“Please come in. Help yourselves to food and drink,” she said calmly and ushered them both forward. 

At that moment though, over the dulcet sounds of the jazz trio, and the loud buzzing of twenty or more simultaneous animated conversations from the party goers, came an almighty banging of doors upstairs and ten little sets of feet thundered down the stairs. All the children, including Caroline and Cassidy, were screaming at the tops of their voices, and ended up in a life-threatening pile of bodies in the hall-way. Geoff and Pumpkin came running down after them, each looking similarly startled. 

“What on earth has happened?”

“She’s chasing us! The witch is chasing us!” gasped one child.

“It was so scary, we just had to escape!”

“Geoff?”

“Improvisation at its best. She has just terrified these children.”

Miranda was horrified. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said to the world in general, and to the Dalton parents in particular who were now clustered behind her, looking on anxiously as their various children scrambled to their feet. “We must stop this now. I will deal with Mrs Treacle!”

“No!” Caroline clutched her mother’s arm. “You mustn’t do that. She is amazing! We’ve had the best fun. It’s been better than a horror film, best party ever!”

“Oh, well.” Miranda didn’t know what to say, but all the girls and boys were nodding their heads and agreeing with Caroline. 

“So, maybe time for some pizza then? Is there to be a second half to the play-acting upstairs?”

“Yes,” said a little girl who was wheezing slightly, (presumably Sally.) “She said she could do Snow White next and we can be Dwarfs. After . . . Supper.” 

“We were going to take the pizzas upstairs, but now you’re all here, come through to the kitchen and we’ll serve them there.”

Miranda directed the children and several of their by now rather inebriated parents through to the kitchen and family room. Sophia was already helping Cara hand out drinks and cut up the pizzas into slices, which did indeed all smell delicious. Their creator, Tony or ‘Spiv’, she could see was now chatting quite happily to some of the Dads left in the dining room. Beside him, Roy was talking to the Mercedes dealer. She knew he would always be on firm ground if he could discuss the insides of cars. Few men knew more.

But it wasn’t Sophia’s husband who was the Spiv round here. Miranda remembered she had a genuine version of a gangster under her roof, a real ‘spiv’ from the mean streets of 1960s Britain. It would almost be funny, if it wasn’t for his hypocritical homophobia. But she knew how she would deal with him on that one. She just had to bring Emily and Serena back together first.


	10. "Bobby" Charlton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda gives Emily's father a lesson in theology.

While the pizza festival was being held in the kitchen, and the adults had settled again into serious drinking, munching from the still rotating plates of little snacks, and chatting to each other, Miranda looked for her “girls”, Serena and Emily, who were still acting as if each had the Bubonic plague. They couldn’t be farther apart unless one of them sat outside. 

Miranda’s magnetic powers located Serena talking to Cindy in one corner of the dining room, and then tracked down Emily who had flopped onto a couch out in the hallway, with some of the other Runway staff. She had obviously abandoned her father to his own devices, and he was already in serious discussion with Kerry’s mother, presumably trying to convert her. 

Miranda looked at her watch. The evening was still young, so she’d give the foolish girls some more time to make up under their own steam, before she took action. Her attention then turned to Andrea who was deep in conversation to Douglas. They now seemed to be embracing each other and were both in tears. Well Andy did cry more easily than she did, so she hoped she wasn’t really distressed. She imagined something cathartic was going on there, and decided not to intrude. 

The constant ringing of the front door bell seemed to have finally ceased, so all her guests must be safely inside. Miranda decided to climb the stairs to visit Mrs Treacle in the attic. She wondered if her performances usually resulted in such alarming, screaming fits of terror. 

Mrs Treacle was busy dismantling her witch’s cave. But it still looked rather fearsome. She also hadn’t removed her false nose, blackened teeth and a wig of long green slimy hair, which over her red and black curls, had a definitely scary effect. When Miranda came into the room, she greeted her very cheerfully, removing the mask and wig as she spoke.

“Hi there, are you the twins’ Mom? Sorry if I scared you all downstairs. I only let them out at the last minute, which is why they shot down the stairs like grapeshot. Any broken limbs?”

“No. But it did look very alarming. Maybe you should have a health warning.”

“I’ve learned over the years, that if you find a way into children’s imaginations it has the knack of expanding what their emotions can cope with, and their world view. Andy told me they were all at least ten years old, so I wasn’t too worried. I don’t do anything too scary for really little kids.”

She was now redressing the room as the Seven Dwarfs’ house, with a projector slide on the wall showing little beds and a table set for supper. Miranda didn’t want to be rude, but Mrs T didn’t look a credible Snow White, nor the wicked step-mother, “the fairest of them all.” She asked who would play those lead roles.

“I thought I’d cast your twins as those parts. I’ve been watching them so far and they are both natural little actors.”

“So, you’re OK up here? Anything else you need?”

“I’m fine, honey. When we finish, I may come down and have a drink with you all. It sounds a great party from what I can hear.”

“Yes, it is all going well. Do come down and have some food and drink, and I’ll pay you what we owe you.”

Just then all the children returned from downstairs, tiptoeing nervously forward, but advancing nevertheless. Mrs Treacle had done a lightning costume change from a witch into a tree, one with a very wide girth and stubby branches. She spoke to the guests in a voice just like one a tree might have had, and drew the children to sit round her on the floor. Miranda left them all to have more fun together. 

When she went down stairs she re-joined the party and even allowed herself one glass of champagne. She had an old trick of just holding a glass permanently in her left hand, but not drinking, but as tonight was seemingly going so well, she thought she might indulge and quaffed it back. 

Geoff, on whom she kept a very sceptical eye, was still on the lemon-lime drink, though her cynical heart did wonder if he’d secretly topped it up with gin from the drinks cupboard high in the kitchen. One of the Dalton Dads, the one whom Geoff said was opening a new restaurant, then pushed towards her through the crowds. 

“Miranda, where did you get those pizzas for the children?” he asked. He had a small piece of pizza still attached to the front of his Christmas jumper, having obviously helped himself to the children’s food with some enthusiasm.

“Why? Was there a problem?”

“Oh no, in fact it’s the best pizza I’ve ever had! Never tasted better! I was thinking I might do a deal with the company, get them into my restaurant.”

“Oh, well this is your lucky night. Come with me and I’ll introduce you to the Chef.” 

Miranda looked round the room for Sophia, and saw her deep in conversation with Cindy. The words “third trimester” wafted on the air-waves. Obviously the non-fashionista guests were connecting up with each other, while the others largely seemed to be exchanging fashion industry gossip. Miranda was astonished how uninterested she was, nice as it was to see the Runway crowd. It all seemed like another world she as yet had no desire to re-enter.

She spoke to Sophia in Italian, mainly to practise her vowels, but also to give her friend warning about the potential good news coming from the man beside her. 

“This guy wants to know where the pizzas come from. He’s so impressed he wants them for his restaurant. Can you take over here, and maybe find Tony? I think this could be a big deal.”

Sophia leapt to her feet, and switched on a radiant smile. She was a good business woman and knew all about marketing. Miranda left them to it, and turned to Cindy who had been sitting down for much of the evening and didn’t look so well.

“How are you, dear? You don’t have to stay in here with the crowd if you’d rather not. Why not go upstairs for a nap?” 

“Thank you Miranda, but I’m fine, just tired. Hey, have you noticed? I don’t think Geoff is on the booze at all yet. I tasted his drink a little while ago, and there’s definitely no alcohol in it.”

Miranda nodded. “Fingers crossed. He said he would quit this morning. You know Cindy, he really loves you. Don’t make any hasty decisions you might regret.”

“I won’t. He is being such a good Dad while we’re here. It seems such a happy home compared to our place. And I want to get on with the twins. I really do.”  
“I know, and I know how bratty they can be when they decide they don’t like a situation. Andy and I are going to work on them and try to straighten them out before you go north tomorrow.”

“Thank you for being so wonderful about letting them stay with us.”

“Nonsense. It takes two parents to make a baby, darling, and I’ve never ever wanted to shut Geoff out. Think about that yourself. Raising a child alone can be a terribly hard and lonely road.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Miranda left her and walked through her guests, some of whom were now even dancing with each other. She had an inner chuckle about how she seemed to be bestowing blessings on all and sundry, and not a single sarcastic barb had even entered her head, let alone been said. 

She located Serena, sitting in the corner, talking to Nigel. She seemed very despondent. “Come, come Serena. After our talk, why haven’t you even gone near Emily?” she asked. 

Serena just shook her head, and then said, “I’ve seen her father. I understand now. He is a very hard man of God. He wants to keep his daughter so pure, so innocent. I am a wicked witch who has corrupted her. I think it is probably best for us all if I leave Runway. I can get work elsewhere.”

Nigel and Miranda both protested vehemently. Miranda said, “Serena, I promise you, before the end of the evening, you and Emily will be back together, and Daddy Charlton will no longer be a problem.” 

“How could that be?” Serena flashed her eyes in derision and even Nigel looked sceptical. 

“Just trust me. Now tell me, am I ever wrong in matters that count?”

“No.”

“Then please just go into my study and wait there for a little while. Nigel will take you.” 

Miranda gave Nigel a “meaningful look” and he followed her lead. 

“Come on Seri,” he said. “Let’s get a refill and then I’ll take you to the study myself.” Serena reluctantly unwound her long legs and followed him. Miranda then turned quickly and looked for Emily. 

She was now standing by her father, and they were having some sort of difficult conversation. He was looking round the room as though he had just realised her girlfriend might be at the party and was trying to work out her identity. Miranda barrelled forward.

“At last, I now have the chance to speak to one of our international guests here tonight! Emily I just need a little word with you in my study, then I want to return and talk about England with your father.”

Emily, who always responded like an automaton whenever Miranda gave her any instruction, allowed herself to be propelled out of the room and across the hallway to the study, where Nigel had just pushed Serena inside. Before she knew what was happening, Emily also found herself in the little room, where there was only one sofa and a desk chair available as seating. Miranda blocked her exit, and also quietly slipped out the key from the lock.

“Now you two, who have both emphatically told me how much you deeply love each other, kindly stop wasting all our time. You’ve been avoiding each other all evening, so you can stay in here till you resolve all your issues. I’m not having any more miserable faces spoiling my party. Call me on my cell phone when you’re ready to come out and can tell me the date of your wedding.”

She managed to give them a Miranda Priestly glare without breaking into laughter, and firmly shut the door on them. Then she turned the key in the lock on the outside and slipped it down her bra. She gave a little sigh. Working Christmas magic was quite hard work. 

Finding a quiet spot to give Bobby Charlton a workover wasn’t easy, but Miranda took him outside, through the kitchen door to their little patio in the back yard. She had smelt tobacco on him, and realised he was still a smoker, however much a reformed sinner he might be in other respects.

It was cold, but they wouldn’t be out there for long.

“Fancy a fag, Bobby?” she said, in her native Cockney.

He turned, and his face went as white as one of her 300 thread-count bed sheets. His hand trembled, especially when Miranda actually produced a lighter from behind the naked wisteria vines on the wall, and flicked it into life. The flame lit up in the darkness, and he pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, extracted one, and let her light it for him. 

“You’re not the only one with secrets. I occasionally indulge, when the children aren’t here.”

“Who? . . . How did you know?”

“Oh, you won’t remember me. Let’s just say I was one of the kids whose lives you ruined. I knew you at once. Does Emily know?”

He shook his head and looked at her pleadingly. 

“None of it, not your time in Wandsworth?”

He shook his head again.

“No. I went in in 1969 and was let out for good behaviour in 1973. Emily thinks I was at some sort of university during those years. She’s a remarkably trusting girl. She wasn’t born till 1978.

“Once a con-man, always a con-man then?”

“Her mother knew. We met on an evangelical mission in ’77, but I told her I’d been born again, and she accepted it. We never discussed the past. Then I went forward for training for the priesthood, and my past began to seem unreal, even to me. I moved right away from London, studied in Bristol, and have never returned.” He spoke slowly, taking drags on his cigarette between sentences. 

“I bet there’s a lot of your old associates round Lewisham and Peckham who would be interested to know what became of you. You destroyed a lot of lives.”

Miranda watched a look of pain pass over his face. He wasn’t a hard man any more. He was an old, frightened ex-con, and she had the measure of him. 

“I know. I’ve tried to make amends. I have strict moral standards now. That’s why finding out about Emily was such a shock. I must have failed to bring her up properly.”

“Bobby Charlton, don’t be such a blithering idiot. If your daughter is gay, then it is in her genes. Either from you or your wife, or any number of forebears. All you did by condemning it was to make her full of self-loathing, and I’ve seen how much she’s suffered as a result. Tell me, do you love your daughter, I mean really love her?”

“Of course, she’s all I’ve got now.”

“But she’s not a possession. You don’t own her. Our children are given to us, lent to us if you like. If you love Emily, you will give her your blessing and set her free. Let her and Serena come out and spend the rest of their lives happily together if they choose. Emily might then even stop starving herself all the time. You realise she’s anorexic? Doesn’t that say something to you?”

“But I’m a bible believing Christian.”

Miranda sighed. It looked as though she would have to give a theology lesson to someone who supposedly had a degree in Divinity. 

“Well I’m not, but in my youth I have read the gospels over many times. As I recall Christ didn’t say one word about same sex love, just about those whose hearts were closed up, and who couldn’t love. He spent most of his time condemning those who judge others and were hypocritical.

“I tell you, Trevor, you will lose Emily from your life if you carry on in this ridiculous fashion. However much she loves you, and mistakenly admires you, you can’t twist her away from her basic nature, nor from the girl she loves so much. Of course if you want to take that risk . . .”

He finished his cigarette, went to stub it out underfoot, had second thoughts, and simply held it between his finger and thumb. He seemed generally dumbfounded.

“But I thought, I thought . . . aren’t you going to blackmail me, threaten to tell her about my past if I don’t let her be with this girl? Why haven’t you already done that?”

“No, I’m not a blackmailer, Trevor. I won’t do that. I do think though you need to tell her the truth for yourself, then you need never fear her finding out from anyone else, and that could easily happen. We live in a very inter-connected world. 

“Look, it’s damn chilly out here. Let’s go inside. Why not let yourself enjoy the spirit of Christmas, loosen up and make your daughter happy? She’s a good girl and so is her girlfriend. Make their Christmas for them. Give them your blessing.”

Trevor Charlton looked at Miranda. She could tell he was turning, ever so slowly, in the water. If he didn’t, he must be realising his ship would sink.

“Emily did say, when she was trying to win me round, that you’ve got a woman lover as well. Is the whole of New York gay?”

Miranda laughed. “Pretty much. Though half of us have been in denial for years. If you look hard, I’m sure you’ll find a few straight folk at this party. What about that person Trixie I saw you chatting up before?”

“Yes, she was telling me she’s been inflicted with a gay daughter as well. She was telling me how badly she wants grandchildren, and doesn’t think that will happen now.”

“We live in the twenty-first century, Trevor. There are many examples of happy families with same-sex parents. My advice to you is, take off that dog-collar chafing your neck, and enjoy what life you’ve got left. By the way, I forgive you.”

“For what? For everything?”

“For the things you did which directly hurt me. I’m learning to let go of past pain and hurt, and it’s a very healing feeling.”

“You are some woman. I wish I could remember you as a girl.”

Miranda then slightly shocked him by doing a little wriggle and feeling down the front of her dress. She pulled out a small door-key. 

“Here, go and release your daughter and Serena from my study. They should have had long enough now to kiss and make up. Tell them you’ll marry them yourself if they set the date.”

He took the key from her, and watched as she disappeared into the throng. Of course he had behaved like an idiot over this whole gay thing. He would go and tell Emily and Serena straight away. 

Then he had a sudden memory, from way, way back. Of a small girl with huge eyes, and long red plaits, who had swung round the lamp-posts, watching him in the lamp-light as he met with and hustled his gang of young drug-pushers. 

One of them had been her older foster brother, the one who had been caught, and the first one to be arrested, the first card in his shabby little empire to come tumbling down. He had been wary of the kid even then, concerned she’d tell the police. She had a knowing look about her. But it wasn’t her who betrayed him, it was his own greed.

He was truly sorry for everything he’d done to hurt her and her friends, and he was going to tell Emily all about it, as soon as he summoned up the courage. For the first time, at the grand old age of sixty-six, he sensed he had a real understanding of what this elusive thing called redemption was all about.

Miranda, meanwhile, had headed straight off in search of Andrea. She did so hope everything had gone well with Douglas. And where was the so called best friend, Lily? She hadn’t set eyes on that young woman since she’d arrived! Miranda looked for them all, but mostly for Andrea, the angelic star on her Christmas tree, the girl who made her feel quite foolish with love.


	11. An exceptionally good kisser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets the chance to kiss and make up.

Their party had been a very busy time for Miranda, but Andrea, violently sneezing every twenty minutes or so, as she tried to untangle just what Douglas had been floundering around confessing to her, had been equally stressed. There were so many friends she really wanted to spend time with, but most of her attention in the early part of the evening had been centred on him. 

For the first half hour, he seemed to be apologising over and over to her for something about Nate, and Lily, and what Lily had done, or not done, and what she had said to him about what she claimed Andy had said to her about him. It was all just too much! Andy finally excused herself and went to replenish her supply of paper hankies. 

She wanted to talk to Lily more than anything, but she couldn’t find her when she returned. This time, Douglas, fortified by champagne, had another, more successful attempt to explain why she hadn’t seen anything of them for six months. He didn’t want to land Lily in it, but there was no other way of explaining.

“I didn’t realise why, but Lily made up stuff about you, that you didn’t care to be around us anymore, and that you thought I was an idiot.” He decided not to quote Lily’s actual words.

“But why, why would she do that? We’ve been best friends since we were six!”

“You must ask Lily about that. I think she’ll tell you, but it will be a bit of a shock. You’ll have to brace yourself, I’m afraid.”

“Oh God, is she all right? She’s not ill or anything?”

“No, no, she’s fine. Andy, I just want you to know, I’ve been a complete fool and I’m so sorry, really sorry. I do want to come back into your life, and get to know Miranda better, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course! I’ve missed you so much! Here, come and have a hug.”

And it was at that point that Miranda had seen them both embrace and burst into tears together. Douglas used one of Andy’s tissues. He was as soft as butter, but then cheered up and as she left him with a plate of caviar and crackers, looked quite encouraged. 

Lily was another matter. Andy went through all the rooms, searching for her without success, and was almost stumped. Surely Lily hadn’t gone home without even greeting her properly. She went to consult Harry, who had brought a flute out from his luggage and was jamming with the band.

“Harry, did you see my friend Lily, a mixed-race girl in a silver dress? Did she leave early while you were on the door?”

“No, but I did see her go down to the underground garage with Cara to fetch more bottles of pop a while ago. I thought she might have been in need of a smoke.”

“Thanks!”

Andy picked up a set of keys from the kitchen rack, and followed her nose and his instructions down to the only place in the house left to look, the basement garage. Lily was hunched up in a corner, sitting on a pile of drinks cartons. She looked very miserable. 

“Hey Lils, what’s going on? I really couldn’t get any sense out of Douglas, apart from how sorry he is over something. Please let’s clear this all up. What’s he been going on about?”

It was chilly and damp in the basement. Andrea shivered especially with her cold so she pushed the button on the car key, and the Porsche lights lit up. 

“Come on,” she urged, “Let’s at least be comfortable and warm. Let’s sit in the car and sort this out. I’ve missed you so much. Tell me why you hate me all of a sudden.”

Lily came over from her corner and opened the passenger side door. She slipped into the low slung leather seat, and waited for Andy to join her on the other side. Andy turned on the power, and pushed up the heater bars. Then she pulled out another three tissues and blew her nose.

Lily started talking, in a very small voice.

“It doesn’t explain what happened in the summer, but this is really at the bottom of it all.” She waved her hand at the dashboard. Andy felt clueless.

“Huh?”

“This. The fact that you get to drive a Porsche, just like that, no questions asked. Your fancy job with $5000 dollar gifts thrown casually in your direction. You living here, in one of the smartest streets in New York. You being the girlfriend of Miranda Priestly. You being Nate’s girlfriend before, and being able to switch teams without hardly turning a hair. God, Andy, don’t you realise how all of this has made me feel?”

“What do you mean? You didn’t fall for Miranda as well did you?”

“No, of course not! But you and I, we’ve been friends for nearly twenty years, and in all that time, I’ve loved you to pieces while at the same time been eaten up with jealousy about you, your perfect family, your wonderful Mom. Hell, Andy you even had a pony! It’s been gnawing away at me all these years, and it’s made me into such an evil cow.”

“Oh Lily, I’m so sorry!” Andrea understood now, not everything, but the salient points. Lily’s single Mom had always worked long hours, just to keep their modest roof over their heads. 

When they had played and hung out together, she had shared everything with Lily, but there was no denying that each evening she’d returned to a comfortable middle-class home with two working parents, and Lily had let herself into a small apartment and waited alone till her mother had finished the second of her two jobs.

“And since we moved together to New York, it’s got worse. I slept with Nate, all through May and June. Didn’t you suspect?”

“N,. . . no!” 

“No, I didn’t think you did. It might have maybe been better if you had. I fancied him from the first moment you introduced him to our circle, but he was yours, like everything else I wanted. That’s why I bad-mouthed you off to Douglas. You even had him, the statutory gay friend.”

“Oh Lily. Why, oh why, didn’t you talk to me? You were my best girl-friend, my soul-mate. We’ve been through our whole lives together.”

“Well, then, you went crazy over Miranda, and I knew, even our girl-to girl friendship would be something I’d lose. You had her to confide in. You wouldn’t need me for anything anymore. That’s why I lost it and treated you like I hated you. I wanted to cut off my own arm, before you did it for me. Can you make any sense of what I’ve said? I’ve felt so terrible ever since. The worst thing is, it didn’t work, being mean to you. I still love you, and now I’ve ruined everything.”

Andrea turned to Lily and took her face between her hands. 

“No you haven’t. I am mightily pissed off, but if I didn’t realise Nate was being unfaithful to me, then our relationship must have been in a worse state than I ever thought.

“You shouldn’t have said dreadful things to Douglas, supposedly from me, not because it would harm me, but because they made him so miserable, and he lacks confidence at the best of times. 

“But despite that, despite everything, you are still my best mate, my Lily, and I love and forgive you. So there.”

Lily pulled her close and held her tight. “And that’s another thing I’m so jealous of you for!”

“What?”

“Your ridiculously sweet nature and ability to forgive your worst enemies. How do you do it?”

“Oh pooh, it’s just easier and saves time. No point wasting time bearing grudges. And seriously, what does the rest matter when I know Miranda loves me. That’s my lode-star. She keeps my heart beating.”

“I still think she is the scariest lady in New York, but your friend Emily comes a close second.”

“How do you know Emily?”

“She came to see me last week. She said Miranda sent her, but she didn’t half give me a roasting.”

“Wow!”

“Yes, she said she loved you and you were a decent kid and didn’t deserve what I’d done to you. Of course she was right!”

Andrea allowed her mind to boggle at the thought of Emily saying such things, but anyway. Had she said enough to stop Lily jumping off the nearest bridge?”

“Lil girl. Let’s not sit down here much longer. It’s dark and chilly, and there isn’t much party atmosphere. Come back upstairs and have some fun. And you can tell me about your latest dating disaster. I imagine Nate has long gone.”

“He certainly has.”

They left the car together, and climbed up into the blaze of party lights and noise, and music which sounded as though it was a fusion of trad. jazz and Irish folk. Andrea looked round the main room and saw Serena and Emily wrapped in each other’s arms, dancing very, very slowly in the corner next to the band. The very large figure of Mrs Treacle, still dressed as a tree, was coming down the stairs rather slowly. She waved a branch when she saw Andy.

“Hi, I’m glad to see you. I’m afraid I’ve been rather too successful at telling the story of Snow White. Most of the children have fallen asleep. I think I may even have hypnotised them by accident. I thought if you could find the parents, they could wake up their own kids and take them home. It’s rather late already.”

It certainly was, long past nine o’clock. Andrea found Miranda and told her the news, and together they made the announcement that eight little dwarves were sleeping soundly upstairs and needed waking. 

“What about my girls?” asked Miranda of Mrs Treacle, passing her a glass of champagne.

“Oh, no chance of them nodding off! They are upstairs busily trying to work out how the evil queen poisoned the apple. They share a very forensic curiosity, those two girls of yours. They’ll work out all my special effects if I’m not careful.”

It took a while, but the Dalton parents were one by one peeled away from the party and sent upstairs to collect their offspring.

“I’d better order several taxies,” whispered Miranda. “There’s no way that some of these parents are driving home.”

Andy hugged her from behind, to avoid sneezing in her face.

“You achieved the miracle with Em and Serena, I see,” she murmured. 

“Not me. Fate stepped in.” replied Miranda, though she did take some quiet pride in what she’d achieved. Trevor Charlton had handed her back her key, nodding as if to say he had done what he’d needed. He didn’t mention he had only narrowly avoided giving his daughter a heart attack in the process. 

Nigel came over to them both now, very merry with party spirit and rather too much champagne. He told them both. “Emily’s father said thank you to me, but added there’s no need for me to wait up for him tonight. He’s going on somewhere with the green haired woman who came with the police gals. Can you believe it?”

“Oh, there’s magic abroad in the air tonight,” laughed Miranda. “Even Sophia’s husband has had very good news. It seems he may even think of giving up his job with the cousin and take up the offer of a job uptown in a new restaurant to make pizzas for the rich and famous. He and Sophia are going to see the place first thing after Christmas.”

Nigel did a twirl. “It’s truly been a wonderful party. You both look divine. Look I was serious about dressing you for your wedding. We need to start talking about it early in the New Year, and Andy, your Mom still hasn’t come back for her photo shoot. I haven’t forgotten about that.”

“She’ll still have her leg in plaster till mid-January. But let’s all get together then. It’s Miranda’s birthday as well about then.”

“Darlings! Perfect excuse for another party!”

“No, Nigel. Don’t go there.” Miranda looked very sternly at him. Fifty must be the least exciting birthday of all, and she had firm plans to spend it alone with Andrea, preferably in a darkened room. 

But now, she had the current party to manage. Most of the guests showed no sign of flagging, and her wonderful caterers were still producing plates of food. The Dalton families were walking their little zombies downstairs as the twins retrieved all the youngsters’ coats and helped them out into the cold night.

“Best . . . party . . . ever,” wheezed little Sally.

“Thank you darling. Take care going home.”

Then Miranda went into her study to look for her chequebook. Mrs Treacle needed paying. 

Close to midnight the mood of everyone still at the party mellowed into a cheerful camaraderie. There were still about thirty people in the house, but Sophia and Tony had left to relieve their baby-sitter, and Geoff, Cindy and the twins had all retired. Emily came forward and put her hands round Miranda’s in an almost unprecedented act of bravery. She pulled her in towards her and said simply.

“Thank you, thank you Miranda. I don’t know what you did or said. But you have worked a miracle and made me the happiest person in the world. I will never be able to repay you, ever.”

Miranda also broke the habit of a lifetime and hugged Emily warmly. “Let’s just say the spirit of Christmas was at work. Where’s your father gone to? I saw him leave earlier.”

Emily tried to answer with the limited information available to her. “I think he’s gone clubbing, with that person with green hair and red and white leggings. But I’m not sure. He’s a grown man. I expect he’ll be fine.”

“And you? Are you going . . . “

“I’m going home, with Seri. We’re going back to her place, and then after Christmas we’re off to Florida for New Year’s.”

Andrea saw Emily talking to Miranda and approached them both. She was waving a sprig of plastic mistletoe, the real stuff not growing too plentifully in central Manhattan. 

“Oh!” Emily stepped away smartly. “Do you want to kiss Miranda?” 

“No, silly! I’m going to kiss you, Em. I really owe you one for getting Lily back into my life. Come here!”

And Emily realised what an exceptionally good kisser Andy was.


	12. The morning after the night before.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some clearing up to do, but plenty of help available.

For the first time in over three years, Geoff Priestly woke up the next morning without feeling hung over, and without an unpleasant taste in his mouth from snoring all night. Beside him, in Miranda’s guestroom bed, the warm and decidedly cuddly shape of his hopefully still affianced Cindy miraculously seemed fast asleep, and he was very happy to see her there. He knew she had been sizing him up as suitable parent material all the previous evening, and he hoped he had passed her little tests.

He’d even caught her sipping his drink, and was so grateful his nerve had held and he hadn’t dived back into the gin bottle for some Dutch courage. He was going to do this, he decided!

If dear old foxy Miranda could reinvent herself as a sweet woman without a malicious thought in her head, then he was sure he could turn himself into one of those older guys, fit as a fiddle and a picture of rippling abs, who advertised juicers on the TV. 

He was off the booze, for good. He was now a non-drinker. Simple. He knew fathering a baby at fifty-five was no small challenge, but he was going to do it. And he was also going to be the best Dad in the world to his astonishingly gifted twins. He was going to make it so they jumped into his arms with joy whenever they saw him, and cried buckets when they had to leave. Geoff Priestly was going to become a new man. 

He felt so good, he decided to go downstairs, put the coffee on for everyone else, make tea for his beloved, and start clearing up. He imagined it must be pretty messy on the ground floor. He had heard the last guests to leave stagger away around 2 am, and some of them might even still be in the house. Geoff wrapped himself up in his dressing gown, found some man-slippers and quietly left the room. 

Downstairs was pretty much as he imagined. The caterers had taken as much away with them as they could when they left, but there were still at least thirty empty glasses scattered about, and platters of snacks all over the place. The house was warm though, and on the sofa in the family room he found an enormous horizontal tree, whose trunk rose and fell as though it was breathing. 

Ah, so Mrs Treacle, the crazy actress from the children’s party hadn’t made it home! He had been going to open the drapes, but decided to leave her in peace. She had certainly earned her fee the night before. 

He then went in to the kitchen, where Pumpkin stretched and delicately stepped round all the plates on the counter. He put down his head to have his ears rubbed, and then retreated back to his basket. It was as though he was saying, “Don’t expect me to clear up all this mess! I’m staying right out of it!”

The coffee was brewing, and the kitchen was coming to life, as Geoff started to load the dish-washer with the most immediate plates and cutlery and some glassware. The door opened and he saw Andrea’s sister Hannah and her fellow, Harry, come through, both still in their night-clothes and both yawning. 

“Fantastic. We thought we smelt coffee.”

“Any sign of anyone else?”

“No, Miranda and Andy were last up, so I imagine they are still asleep, and I can’t see the twins emerging for an hour or so yet. We thought we’d come down and clear up the house for them, as far as we can. Our jet-lag is still making us feel alive when everyone else is asleep and vice-versa.” 

Geoff poured out some coffees, then selected a herb tea from the shelf and poured boiling water over it from the tea-kettle. “There’s a tree formerly known as Mrs Treacle sleeping in the family room.”

“Oh, OK. I wonder what her real name is. She was a hoot.”

“Yes, she scared me to death, and I’m the head of a law-firm.”

“We all have our own calling I suppose.”

“What’s yours then Harry?”

Geoff felt vaguely in loco parentis over the younger members of this now strangely extended family, but he didn’t want to sound too judgemental.

“Oh, I’m not quite sure yet. I suppose if Hannah has her heart set on staying in Japan, maybe I could take a qualification in teaching English as a foreign language or something. At the moment, I’m just enjoying travelling, and busking with the flute. I love music.” 

What Harry didn’t say was that he had a first class degree in mathematics from Melbourne University. He was no slouch when it came to brain power, but hadn’t fancied boring down into maths or computer studies, which was the expected route for someone with his qualifications. 

He sipped his hot coffee, and then said to Geoff, “I expect you’ll be able to help. Do you know much about Miranda’s background? It’s just that she reminds me so much of someone close to me. I’m sure it’s a coincidence, but it’s bugging me.”

Geoff shrugged. 

“I can’t help you much there. I know she was born in England, but apart from that, I know very little. She never ever spoke about her childhood or youth prior to coming to the US. She did say she thought she had Jewish forebears on her father’s side, but that’s as much as I recall. It was one of Miranda’s many ‘no-go’ areas when we were married. She’d clam up and go silent if I ever pressed her too hard. ”

“Oh well, I must be way off the mark then. No worries.” Harry smiled. 

Hannah looked around at the piles of plates and glasses. She knew it would annoy Miranda, just as it did her. She suggested, “Let’s help you stack the dish-washer and do some clearing up. We’ve got plenty of time before we have to catch the flight out this afternoon. It will be a relief when Andy and Miranda do get up, to see the house ship-shape again. I expect they’re still sleeping.”

Actually, that wasn’t quite the case. The occupants of the main bedroom on the second floor were engaged in a protracted and very luxurious bout of love-making. Andrea’s cold had now left her head and was just a tickle in her chest, but Miranda had woken her by tickling her in quite a different area of her anatomy, demanding recompense for having to watch her kissing Emily the night before. 

“Blatant teasing,” she’d growled, as she caressed Andy who was sleeping on her stomach. She put one hand down her lover’s pyjama trousers and pulled them down to expose her beautifully rounded behind. She could feel the curve of her buttocks under the duvet, and began to run her fingers underneath them, tickling the top of her thighs. 

Andrea struggled awake. “Hmm? What? Don’t do that honey, it makes me go all hot for you.”

At this encouragement, Miranda continued, expanding her fingers’ line of travel. 

“You kissing Emily in front of me. Keep that sort of thing to yourselves in future, if you’re intending to do it again.”

“Which I’m not, of course.”

“No, not wise. You’re so delectable, she might decide to dump Serena and come running after you. And after all my hard work putting them back together.”

“Yes, how did you work that miracle . . . make her father capitulate so suddenly. You have magical powers. You must have bewitched him.”

Andrea turned and brought Miranda’s head against her breast. She bent forwards and kissed her on her closed eyes. 

Every morning she woke up in this woman’s bed, she still couldn’t believe it. It was like a dream. Maybe she was bewitched. But what Miranda was doing to her body just now did seem very real and very physical. Miranda enjoyed morning sex perhaps the best of all, and was very gifted at it.

“Miri, darling, tell me. Do you want to make love to me this morning? Because if you are just teasing, then I’ll run into the shower. You are playing with fire here. . . Oh!”

Miranda had brought both her talented hands into play, and Andy’s pyjama bottoms were now round her knees. 

“I want to make love to you, and be made love to. Is that clearer now?”

“Yes, quite clear.” 

And there was no more verbal conversation for the next half hour. 

When they both did dress and go downstairs, the sparkling and immaculate nature of the rooms used for the party was a beautiful surprise. Mrs Treacle, very embarrassed to be woken with a mug of coffee while still in her talking tree persona, had retreated back to the top floor to shower, change and gather up her bags. 

Cara, the omni-competent Cara, had showed her where to go. Cara had slept over in her normal room upstairs and was now flipping pancakes and grilling Canadian bacon. The twins were playing some music away in the piano room, and Cindy had joined Geoff. They were both dressed and looked packed and ready to leave. 

Over coffee, bacon and pancakes, Cindy said, “Thanks so much for having us. It’s made all the difference, more than you will realise. I had my first good night’s sleep in months, and it was in the same bedroom as my fiancé!”

“So you are going to get married?” asked Andrea. “That’s fantastic! Everyone in the world is getting married!”

“Not quite everyone, darling, just a few of us.” Miranda liked to be accurate, and avoid hyperbole, even when she was purring with post-coital contentment.

“No, everyone!” insisted Andrea. ”Last night Sally proposed to Kerry, and they are going to start a family. It seems Kerry has wanted a baby for ever so long, and her crazy mother will certainly be pleased.”

“So that’s you and Miranda, Harry and me, Geoff and Cindy and Emily and Serena, and now your other friends.” 

Hannah laughed. “It’s worse than the ending of Pride and Prejudice. Who else can we marry off?”

“Don’t look at me!” snorted Cara. “I have my man, even if he’s never here.”

Mrs Treacle came into the kitchen, to return her coffee mug, and to apologise for staying twelve hours later than she’d been asked to. She had morphed back into a large elderly black New York woman, but she had shown them amazing acting ability. In a fair world she’d be on Broadway.

“I’ll be off now. Thanks so much. I won’t forget this gig in a long while.”

“Can I give you a ride anywhere?” Andy felt sorry for her and all her heavy bags.

“No, honey, but thank-you. I’ve just called a cab.”

At that moment the door-bell rang for her. 

“Well, goodbye then.”

“Goodbye, and enjoy the rest of your Christmas, won’t you all?”

“Oh, we will. I’m sure we will,” replied Miranda, on behalf of all the others, and went to show her out. 

“What’s your real name?” she whispered as she opened the door for her. 

“That would be telling. Just call me Mrs Treacle. If I went by my real name I couldn’t do this job”

“Oh, go on. I won’t tell the others.”

Mrs Treacle whispered something in Miranda’s ear, and made her chuckle. 

“Yes, I see,” she said. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

And Mrs Treacle disappeared into the back of the cab. 

Miranda looked up at the sky. It seemed full of snow, and fond as she was of all her house-guests, she knew she should encourage them to leave as soon as possible. It looked as though it might become a white Christmas. 

The twins had come down, and were both sitting on their father’s knees, one on each side. They hadn’t done that in years. 

“Do you want help with your packing darlings?”

“Maybe, could Cara help?”

“Sure thing kiddoes,” and Cara followed them upstairs. She knew they had lots of secret parcels they wanted to stow away without anyone seeing.

Before they left for Massachusetts, Miranda and Andrea both hugged them tightly and then gave them a strict talk about being fair to Cindy and not plaguing her.

“We won’t. She’s not so bad.”

“Dad’s baby is inside her now, and can probably hear everything that’s going on.”

“We won’t be mean to our brother’s Mom, don’t worry.”

“What makes you so sure it’s a brother?”

“Oh it had better be.”

“We need some gender balance in this family.”

This last gem was from Cassidy and it completely reduced Andrea and their Mom to fits of laughter.

The house guests and the twins all left together in the end, Geoff promising to drop Hannah and Harry by the speed link Metro line for JFK. Everyone promised a call to confirm safe arrivals. Cara went home, to her own quiet and well-ordered apartment, to have a well-needed rest with her feet up in front of a Christmas film on the TV, and Miranda and Andrea were left alone in the great big house. 

They looked at each other, and embraced for a long slow kiss. As the first feathery snowflakes began to fall outside, Miranda hugged her Andrea close to her heart and sighed with happiness. Then she remembered, there was just the little matter of Andy’s Christmas present still to sort out. The fun wasn’t over yet!


	13. Oh the weather outside is frightful . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the public to the private . . .The snowflakes fall and Miranda teaches Andrea a thing or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter to this story. I have been making and enjoying an eggnog as I wrote it The last chapter will be posted either tomorrow or by December 26th, or Boxing Day, as we Brits call it! Then we'll all find out what Miranda's Christmas present to Andrea will be. * Thank you, dear readers, for your valued support and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  
> * I'm sure most of you will have guessed.

Let it snow . . . . .  
Pumpkin Priestly took one look out at the white carpet which had blanketed his world and decided to pee in his litter tray. Pumpkin rarely ventured out of the front door, but he did often potter about the small rear garden and patrol the fence round the back yard. Not this evening though. In the last few hours all had changed. This strange white stuff pouring down from the sky had sent a hush over the streets outside. If he went beyond the kitchen, out through his own little flap cut into the back door glass, he’d be buried up to his neck in it.

Life was astonishing in so many ways, but the kitchen was warm, his basket had a cosy blanket in it, his bowl still had some leftover dinner in it and his water dish was full. He wondered what his two Moms were doing upstairs and whether they would come down to administer hugs and more kisses soon. But otherwise all was well. 

The scary crowds of humans and all the noise from the day before, and the morning’s noisy vacuum cleaning hadn’t been repeated, and the house was quiet. Pumpkin had his wee, took a bite to eat, and then curled his tail round his paws until its tip covered his nose, and went back to sleep, where he’d been dreaming.

It was not quite the night before Christmas, but all through the house, no one was stirring, not even a mouse. Pumpkin had never seen a mouse, but he bet he could get the better of it if one did venture into his kitchen.

That part wasn’t entirely true, of course, about no-one stirring. Upstairs Miranda had been pacing around like a caged tiger as soon as the snow began to fall in earnest, and hadn’t been able to relax until the twins had called to say they were less than twenty miles from their father’s front door, on a good road, where the gritting trucks were out in force. 

Then Hannah and Harry messaged to say their plane had landed in Cincinnati and it wasn’t even snowing there. It was too cold apparently. Her father was about to meet them, and they’d be on the road within ten minutes. 

“You see, darling, nothing to worry about. Everyone’s almost safely home. Now relax and sit by the fire. I’m going to fix you a night-cap. How about an eggnog?” 

Andy was wrapped up in several layers of loungewear, topped with her Christmas sweater. Her feet were cosy in Christmas sock-slippers as well, and her cold had descended deep into her chest, just to lower her voice by a few degrees. Other than that, she felt fine, sitting on the couch with her feet up on a stool. But she was more than happy to jump up and fetch her lover anything she wanted. 

Miranda, however was still pacing about the room. She, who would rarely bring herself to totally dress down, had changed earlier into a smart burgundy velour jumpsuit over a cream cashmere sweater. If CNN had suddenly turned up at the door, wanting an interview, she could have gone out straight before the cameras, without any problems. 

She looked out at the falling snow through the living room windows, and then reluctantly pulled the drapes and blocked out the magical sight. Fresh snow still entranced her, just the first few minutes, before the inevitable vehicles churned it up and made it all dirty. 

But this snow had also caused her some practical difficulties. Apart from being terrified her children would be killed in a traffic accident, her planned shopping expedition for Andy’s present the next day might have to be postponed even until after Christmas. Oh well, at least she knew her family were all safe, and Andy, her Andrea, was here with her, fit and well, and all hers, hers alone for the next day and a half. 

At times, Miranda could be very eloquent about how much Andrea meant to her, but at others, like just now, strangely enough, the power of her emotions rose up through her chest and stifled her, until she could hardly speak for the passion which roared inside her and almost deafened her. 

To be given such love, to be able to feel so intensely in tune and in sync with another human being was an astonishing blessing. As intensely as she had mourned her mother, as purely as she had loathed her step-father, and as passionately as she adored her girls, nothing quite matched how Miranda felt about Andrea. She couldn’t even articulate it. It simply humbled her. 

“Did you hear, darling? How about an eggnog?”

“We don’t have any in the house,” was all Miranda said, sounding cool and disinterested.

“Oh, we don’t need the bottled stuff. I can make a wonderful egg-nog! We have brandy, eggs, and cream. Let’s go down to the kitchen and see what Pumps is up to, and I’ll show you my secret recipe.”

“It sounds very fattening.”

“Miranda Priestly! If you say one more sacrilegious things like that over the Christmas period, I will push you under a cold shower. You hardly ate a thing yesterday. I was watching you at the party, and you didn’t even have a toastie for lunch. You’ll waste away to nothing like Emily if you’re not careful.”

Miranda was fully repentant. She did feel hungry and besides, she knew she actually also wanted to fatten Andrea up, having seen how the green silk dress had hung from her figure so loosely compared to when she’d last worn it, on their first expedition up to Provincetown in the summer.”

“I’m sorry, my love. Ignore me. I talk nonsense half the time.”

Andrea rose and pulled her into her arms. “Neither of us wants to be too skinny, do we? Sex is so much better when one had beautiful rounded curves to hold onto. I know if I lose weight, my breasts get smaller and I would hate to deny you the right to have your fair share.”

“After supper, can we have a really early night tonight, would you mind?”

“Fine. Do you feel tired, my darling?”

“No, Andrea, I don’t feel tired at all.”

Andrea met Miranda’s eye, and grinned.

“Oh, yes, I see. Well let’s make up these eggnogs and then you can tell me what you’d like me to do, to make you tired.”

“That’s my girl, always quick on the uptake.” 

Andy’s eggnogs were indeed delightful, and Miranda enjoyed hers, sitting on the sofa watching the 10 o’clock news, with Andrea lying with her head on her lap. She sipped it slowly, marvelling at how her life had been transformed since the previous Christmas, when she and Stephen had engaged in silent warfare, the twins had been miserable, and Geoff had been too drunk to come to collect them on time. Then she hadn’t had sex for so long, she felt she’d almost shrivelled up.  
Now she was going to focus on the present, and the immediate future, which was literally within her grasp. As the news finished, she switched off the television, put her hand down and tweaked Andrea’s ear. 

“Come on girl. Time for bed!”

Andrea sat up and snuggled up to her.

“Press Rudolf’s nose, and then you’ll see my red-light district open for business.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, but pressed her hand to the middle of Andrea’s stomach and the red light came on.

“What do you think?”

“Wonderful. Now come upstairs and let me take it off you.”

“Yes Miranda.” 

Andrea sensed that Miranda was in a mood for dominant sex that night, and was delighted to follow her lead. She loved it when Miranda started a game with her, and opened the door into a world of sexual games and fantasy which belonged just to them in their own private kingdom.

Sometimes Miranda liked to hunt her like the goddess Diana through an imaginary forest of trees, and could cope with however strongly Andrea fought back and retaliated like an Asian martial arts athlete, catching her in unexpected holds, sometimes throwing her like a wrestler, and demanding oral payment before she submitted to her huntress.

But tonight Andrea sensed her mercurial lover was in absolute dominatrix mode, when all resistance would be futile, and cheek or impertinence would be summarily punished with a quick-fire slapping, perhaps being really tied to the bedpost and given a very forceful fucking. There was no more polite way of saying it. 

When they had had sex like that before, (and it could only be when the children were well away from the house, as the games were quite noisy,) Miranda would usually end up screaming her way to an orgasm, and then flipping over into the most gentle and loving of women, begging for forgiveness, and kissing and soothing any fiery buttocks or sore wrists.

Andrea adored all their games, because Miranda was her whole universe in those hours and she would follow her lead wherever she went. At times though, she also could pretend to be a predator, and was so fierce that at times, Miranda was genuinely frightened, as she was on one memorable occasion, when she had even hidden in a wardrobe to escape her lover’s wrath. 

Love like theirs was hard to contain, and harder still to explain to others. But it was above all, tremendous fun.

When she entered their bedroom that evening, Miranda quietly stood behind her in the lamplight and whispered, “I don’t think we quite finished what we started this morning, do you agree?”

“No, Miranda?”

“No?”

“I mean yes, yes we didn’t finish what we started.”

“So, where were we?”

“You were teaching me to be more careful who and how I kissed in public.”

“Oh yes, and how was I doing that, pray?”

Miranda sat down on the edge of their bed, and slipped off her shoes. Andrea picked up the cue, knelt in front of her, and like a handmaiden to an Egyptian Queen, began to quietly disrobe her, beginning with her feet, legs and delicious torso and finishing, eventually, by removing her ear-rings. 

This process took a long time because it was punctuated by much kissing of the relevant parts, and by Andrea carefully folding all her clothes and placing them neatly on the chair. By the end of the ritual, Miranda was stripped naked, and lying back against the pillows, her eyes shut and her breasts heaving. All she wore was her perfume.

She could just about keep in role, for she knew Andrea was burning up with arousal, and it was the same for her. Miranda, exposed on the bed like an artist’s model, always drove the girl wild, but tonight she was determined to make her wait, and suffer. Besides, the memory of that casual but oh so sexual kiss on Emily’s mouth lodged in her brain. 

“I’m still expecting an answer.”

“You were showing me where I belong, and who I belong to.”

“To whom you belong.” Her mistress corrected her sternly.

“To whom I belong.”

Well? Let’s continue that little lesson.”

Miranda’s blue eyes flashed open. 

“Stand up. Take off all your clothes.”

Andrea obeyed, stood just out of touching distance and slowly lifted her arms to remove her Christmas sweater. 

“Take all the time in the world, of course. Don’t hurry on my account.”

“Sorry.”

Andrea shivered, even though the room wasn’t cold.

“You might remove those ridiculous socks too.”

“And those sweat pants.”

“And now your underwear.”

Andrea stood in front of her mistress naked from the waist down. Miranda just gazed at her, creating such a force field that Andrea’s gaze dropped in shame. She dropped to her knees again, and buried her face in Miranda’s pubic hair. She felt almost too weak to stand. Miranda brusquely pushed her away, but not before she had the chance to breathe in her wonderful perfume and smell the sex in her.

“No, stand up! Take off the rest of your appalling garments.”

Within a few moments Andy was also naked, her clothes discarded around the bed. She stood and let Miranda look, as she looked back at her. She felt the fluid gather between her legs and began to feel it leak down her thighs.

“What do you want, Miri?”

She waited, for five, maybe ten seconds. It felt like an eternity.

Miranda was motionless, then suddenly leapt up from the bed, grabbed her by the arms, pulled her frontwards off her feet, and sat back on the bed with Andy lying helpless across her lap. So, it was going to be a spanking. Why hadn‘t she seen that coming?

The first slap landed fair and square across both buttocks. 

“Ow!”

“You will, never, ever kiss someone on the mouth apart from me.”

Another slap, this time a little to the south so it caught her across the top of her legs.

“Ow!”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes Miranda.”

Another slap. Even harder. On the right cheek.

“Ever!”

Another.

“Right! Got it!”

The final slap hit her left buttock, but so hard she bounced up in the air.

“Yes . . . I understand.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Then that’ll do. My hand hurts.”

“Poor Miranda.”

“I’m glad you feel sorry for me.”

“Am I forgiven now?”

“More or less.”

“Good, so can I get up?”

“Why?”

“So I can pay you back!”

Miranda let her go, and Andrea, by now so hot she could not restrain herself any longer, leaned forward, pulled Miranda’s mouth to her own, and owned her completely. Then she pushed her hand immediately deep inside Miranda’s flooded corridors of power and pumped her as hard as she dared. 

They rolled on the bed, crazy with lust, and Andrea took her revenge, with some added bonuses along the way. Miranda felt like a girl, like a child even, playing these games she loved. 

When she came against Andrea’s mouth, not for the first time, some hour after midnight, she laughed and laughed, until unbidden tears rose up from deep inside and she wept for her lost mother and her broken childhood. Andrea then rocked her like a baby, and lay with her until she fell asleep. 

It was just as her mother Jenny had warned her. Miranda had so much pain to lose. But better it came out like this, rather than in front of her young daughters or in public. This bed was their place of healing, their secret place of deep contentment, and their private sanctuary. 

Unlike Miranda, Andrea had years of happy Christmases with which to compare it, but she knew in her heart, that this Christmas was going to be the best ever. Eventually she also fell asleep, but not before wondering if Miranda had been genuinely upset by her kissing Emily, or was simply pretending. Probably better not to find out by trying it again any time soon, however.


	14. Christmas Day in New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It continued to snow, so plans have changed. Miranda and Andy complete their exchange of presents

After their night of cathartic sex, Miranda and Andy spent a very quiet Christmas Eve, loving and nurturing each other in the warmth and peace of the town-house. It was insulated by a thick blanket of snow which had started to fall, and had continued throughout the night.

For breakfast, Andy made the thick oatmeal porridge she had learned from her Scottish grandmother on her Dad’s side, prinking it up with maple syrup and some of the heavy cream left from her eggnog recipe, and Miranda didn’t make any derogatory comments about it being too fattening. She just ate it with huge enjoyment, licking her lips and scraping out the bowl like the twins.

“What would you like to do today, sweetheart?” she asked, watching as Andrea poured her out a second cup of coffee. 

“I don’t want to play in the snow,” laughed Andy. “It looks like there’ll be plenty of that to do when the girls come home.”

“If they come home,” Miranda said, looking out of the kitchen window. “Geoff’s parents are very elderly. I wouldn’t want them to try driving if the snow is still this bad tomorrow. We may be facing Christmas all on our own.”

“However it turns out, it will be wonderful. We can sit and read, like they do in Iceland, where everyone exchanges books at Christmas. 

“Or, how about this Miri, I had an idea to take you up to the piano room and give you a starter lesson on the instrument up there. There’s no logical reason why you shouldn’t be able to play it yourself. You’d enjoy it, especially if you can accompany yourself. You have such a lovely voice.”

“But I’ve never learned. I can’t read a note.”

“Defeatist talk. You’re more musical than I am, and I think your ear is probably as good as Caroline’s. Come on, after breakfast let’s go and see how you get on. It’s a beautiful piano you’ve bought for them, and it’s a shame to waste it. You only need to be able to remember the letters A to G”

“I had thought of having it lifted from the top floor and brought downstairs into the living room. Then we could all play it more.”

“Good idea!” 

Miranda called Geoff and the girls, and discovered it was true; they were snow-bound up near Boston. She insisted they only tried to travel back to New York once the roads were totally safe. She then had a longer conversation with her Ex., once the twins were off the line.

“The weather forecast doesn’t indicate a quick thaw. Please don’t risk it. Give Cassidy her telescope this evening. Then she can look out for Santa’s reindeer as they fly over Boston.”

“But what about you and Andy?”

“We will be absolutely fine. I shall feel a million times better knowing your parents and the girls are safe with you. There are twelve days of Christmas, after all!”

“Ok, girl. If you’re sure.”

“Geoff, remember last Christmas. They hardly saw you at all. Make the most of this year, and enjoy it. How’s being on the wagon going? How’s Cindy?”

“Still sober. Three days now! And Cindy is cautiously optimistic she might still love me in April. She’s talking about an Easter wedding.”

“Great. But she’ll be very pregnant.”

“I know. She fell completely in love with you by the way. It isn’t fair. I’m sure she prefers you to me.”

“She’s a very sweet kid. She reminds me of my younger self though, but less screwed up.”

“Were you screwed up? I just used to think you were naturally gifted at bitchiness.”

“No, Geoff, believe me, I was seriously screwed up. Andy and her mother have done wonders to help me, but it is still a work in progress. I will tell you the whole story sometime. It wasn’t your fault, that so much went wrong in our marriage.”

“Well, I’m no saint. Let’s just call it water under the bridge. Anyway, enjoy your Christmas with Andy. What are you getting her, by the way?”

Miranda made sure she was out of ear-shot, then told him, and he smiled.

“She’ll like that.”

“I know.”

Later in the morning, Andrea gave Miranda a short music theory lesson, and then sat her at the piano keyboard and explained chords and how they worked together, using the little ‘tonic sol-fa’ song from 'The Sound of Music' as a starter. 

By the end of the hour, they hadn’t quite progressed to diminished 6ths, but Miranda had a much clearer idea of how music worked, and why she found traditional jazz so satisfying. She felt ridiculously pleased with herself when she could feel the chords as an accompaniment to her favorite song by Stevie Wonder, “You are the sunshine of my life.”

“There you go. I knew you had a fantastic ear. Just go for it. Do you know, Paul McCartney can’t read music? Many of the greats can’t.”

Miranda smiled. This was another of her childhood dreams coming alive. She happily tinkered away on the keyboard for the rest of the morning, while Andy went back to writing her novel, and Pumpkin stared out at the white world around them. 

In the evening of Christmas Eve, Andy gave Miranda her present while they sat by the fire in the living room. It was a moderately heavy square parcel, wrapped in elegant gold and silver Christmas paper, with very frothy ribbons. Hannah had helped her prink it up. She watched as Miranda weighed it speculatively in her hands. 

“I’m guessing . . . a book?”

“Getting warmer.”

“Knowing you and knowing me, it’s most likely to be “How to win friends and influence people.”

“No! I don’t think you’ll guess it that easily. I hope not!”

Well, pass me a pair of scissors. I don’t want to spoil these beautiful ribbons.”

Miranda slowly unwrapped the parcel, and then revealed the book Andrea had found for her. She just stared at it and her eyes filled with tears. Andy was aghast.

“Darling!”

“No, no! Don’t worry. It’s the most perfect present in the whole world. You remembered . . . How did you find it?”

“The wonders of the internet. It’s a first edition.”

“I can see that. With the original illustrations. Oh sweetie, it’s wonderful. Thank you so, so much.”

Miranda had cradled in her hands “A Little Princess” by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It was the book she’d been given by a teacher when she was ten and which her step-father had thrown into the fire. ** Losing the one possession of her own she cherished had been the catalyst for her flying at him, being beaten so badly she could hardly stand, and finally being rescued from the hell of her childhood.

This lovely volume would take pride of place in her book collection. She wondered now why she had never sought a first edition of it before, but knew the scars had just been too painful. 

She thanked Andrea again, and felt around for a tissue to dry her eyes, and repair her mascara. 

Andy lightened the mood with chuckling. 

“Honestly, darling. Only you could put mascara on when it’s a day of staying at home, with only me and Pumps to admire you. Margot asked me if you put on lipstick to throw out the trash, and I had to be honest and admit, that, yes, you did!”

“Don’t make fun,” sniffed Miranda. She felt too emotional to be teased.

“All right. Now let’s turn on the TV to watch the Carol Service from Kings College. It’s on in a moment.”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m giving you for Christmas?”

Andy laughed and made herself comfortable on the sofa. 

“I’m not sure. I’d rather not, especially if it’s another spanking like last night.”

Miranda dropped her eyes. “No, my wrath is completely dissipated. And I think you punished me sufficiently for it.”

“I did. So come and sit by me and tell me more about your mystery present. Let’s play Twenty Questions.”

Miranda cuddled up to her, and put her head on Andy’s shoulder while they watched the carols and listened to the beautiful singing. Every now and then Andy would ask her another question.

“Could I eat it?”

“No.”

“Could I wear it?”

“No.”

By a miracle, Miranda managed to deflect the questions.

“Well, give me a clue.”

“It’s something you will have to choose for yourself.”

“So you haven’t even bought it yet?” 

“Not exactly.”

“So when will I see it?”

“Perhaps tomorrow, if we can get the car out of the garage.”

“Hmm. So tomorrow morning I had better start shovelling snow from in front of the garage. It’s two feet deep at the moment.”

“Let’s see. When you’ve chosen your present, we won’t be able to bring it home yet anyway.”

“Why?”

“Not telling. You have to guess. I’ve given you enough clues.”

“It’s a plant! You know I like those orchids they have up in the garden centre.”

“No, it’s not a plant.”

Andy veered off in entirely the wrong direction. 

“Then it’s a new computer. Thank you darling. With a wide screen for editing text. And we need to book a technician to set it up properly.”

Miranda said nothing but managed to look as though Andy had guessed correctly. 

“That’s enough for now. Watch those little choirboys. I like their very crisp stiff collars. One day I will take you to England and we can visit Kings College in Cambridge. The architecture is astounding. It was built in the early 1500s.”

The spirit of Christmas settled over them with the old carols, and Andrea stopped guessing. A new desk-top computer would certainly be useful. 

On Christmas Day, the snow-storm had blown through, the sky was a hard blue shell with bright sunshine. After they’d had some delightful Facetime with the twins, and with Andy’s family in Ohio, Andy, feeling in need of some vigorous exercise, put on her boots and thick gloves and carried the snow shovel outside to clear the front steps and the steep drive down into their garage. 

It took two hours of hard work and much sprinkling of salt, but she cleared the steps, the sidewalk in front of their house and the garage entrance. Sufficient numbers of vehicles had come up and down the street to damp down the snow in the middle of the road, and she thought they might get one of Miranda’s cars out if they were careful. 

Miranda had fixed tomato soup and turkey sandwiches for lunch, and Andy was ready for it. Afterwards she said, “Let’s go out. We can take the Porsche. It has better torque.”

“Torque eh? You’re getting rather knowledgeable about such matters. Don’t you think it would be more sensible to wait until Roy could come for us?”

“We can’t get Roy to come all the way in from where he lives, not over the holidays. Let’s go, wherever you want us to go. Where is it, by the way?”

“Oh, not too far. I’ll drive.”

They both wrapped up warmly, and Andy noticed Miranda had not bothered with mascara after all. With a certain amount of revving, Miranda made it safely out of the garage, and then followed the line of other vehicles up the salted street. Too many wealthy people lived in her area not to have the streets properly cleared. 

She drove them the eight blocks or so, to the house the twins had taken her to a few days before, and where she had called ahead to find out if it was convenient to come, (on Christmas Day after all.) Andy was very surprised to see it was a private home, not a retail outlet of some sort. She vaguely recognised the woman who opened the door, from the Dalton school gates. 

“Come through, we’re expecting you. There are four still not spoken for, but still only six weeks old of course. They can’t leave their mother yet, for another fourteen days.”

Andrea looked at Miranda, her eyes like saucers.

“??”

“Come and see, darling. The twins brought me to visit them before Christmas.”

In a warm back utility area, a small Bichon Frise bitch lay contentedly in her basket with seven balls of white fluff guzzling happily from her milk. 

“What do you think? The other end of the scale from Patricia, but I was rather taken, I admit.”

Andrea knelt down and watched intently as the puppies one by one disengaged themselves from their Mom and started to play about the basket. They were very small, but already individual character traits were beginning to show. One immediately headed for the edge of the basket and tried to escape, while another went off by itself and fell fast asleep. 

She inspected them all, three boys and four girls.

“So which ones are still for sale?”

“The ones without a dab of colour on their necks. It’s hard to tell them apart otherwise,” said the owner, apologetically. She took out the available puppies and let them run about on the newspaper across the floor. 

Andrea liked the larger of the two remaining bitches. It sat and stared at her, and for some reason reminded her of Miranda, defiant and self-assured, but also very curious. It began to play and then came forward to lick her finger, and then began to climb up her hand. 

“She’s adorable. I’d like this one please.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yes, darling. It’s the most wonderful present. I love her. We can all go dog-walking again, and the twins will adore her.”

“Do you think Pumpkin will accept her?”

“Oh, he’s young. He’ll adjust. I expect they’ll be best mates before we know it.”

There was then the expected discussion about pedigrees, where the puppies’ father had come from, and all the details about inoculations and worming. Miranda dealt with all of that, while Andrea sat on the floor and played with the puppies. 

She thought through the practicalities. The twins would love the little dog and she guessed it was they who had suggested a puppy as a present. Even if it needed frequent trips to the groomer to keep its coat immaculate, she knew her choice would be a spirited, intelligent little animal.

Frankly, a Bichon Frise pup would be more suited to New York life than Miranda’s previously lovable but incredibly messy St Bernard. This dog, even when fully grown, would also be small enough to travel easily by car, train or even plane, so they could take her with them whenever they went to Cape Cod or Ohio. 

“We’ll come back on January 10th collect her,” she said, as the breeder finally showed them out. 

Miranda laughed as they reached the car. 

“You never guessed, not even a clue?”

“No! Though I admit I have wanted a puppy ever since I moved in with you. I thought the redecoration project would block any chance however.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be no trouble. She won’t shed fur anyway. Now, let’s go out for dinner somewhere.”

“On Christmas Day?”

“Yes, there will be plenty of Jewish or Islamic restaurants open. I’m going to fatten you up, my love. How about a nice juicy steak?”

“With fries?”

“Why not!” 

And the two of them drove off cheerfully through the city’s festive twilight. They were as happy as two women in New York could be. Miranda headed for one of her favorite restaurants.

So Andrea had expected the present might be a new desk-top computer had she? Well, that was something Miranda could easily organise. She looked sideways at her elf-like companion, and just absorbed her beauty. Nigel had been right. It was time to start seriously planning their wedding. Andrea would look beautiful in white . . . 

The End.  
(** Explained in “The Making of Miranda.”)


End file.
